^* 


VIRGINIUS 


AS 


Man,  Actor  and  Spirit 


BY 

SUSIE    C.   CLARK 

Author  of  "A  Look  Upward,"  "Pilate's  Query,"  etc. 


"  Thou  art  mighty  yet! 
"  Thy  spirit  walks  abroad." 

—  Julius  CfBsar 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON 

MURRAY    AND    EMERY    COMPANY 
1905 


Copyright  in  1905  by 
SUSIE  C.  CLARK. 
All  rights  reserved. 


INSCRIBED 

WITH  REVERENT  LOVE 
TO  THE  FADELESS  MEMORY  OF 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Virginius Frontispiece 

Coriolanus    82 

Spartacus 174 

McCullough  Memorial 232 

Virginius 266 


JOHN  McCuLLOUGH 

AS    MAN,    ACTOR    AND    SPIRIT 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

"  The  harp  that  once  thro'  Tara's  halls 

The  soul  of  music  shed 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er, 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise 
Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more." 

— Thomas  Moore, 

Fair  Emerald  Isle!  In  verdure  clad,  thy 
banks  and  hills  still  cheer  the  eyes  of  "weary, 
homesick  men  far  out  at  sea."  Fain  would 
they,  as  Columbus  did  of  yore,  on  a  Western 
shore,  kneel  and  kiss  thy  fair,  green  sod, 
which  affords  the  first  welcome  glimpse  of 
land.  Like  a  sleeping  princess  thou  dost 
rest  upon  the  breast  of  thine  ardent  wooer — 
the  Neptune  god! 


10  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

A  stormy  record  has  been  -  thine  !  Kings 
and  potentates  have  fought  for  the  prize  of 
thy  possession.  Thy  green  turf  has  been 
crimson  dyed  with  sanguinary  conflict,  thy 
pure  atmosphere  polluted  with  plot  and 
intrigue,  thy  ruined  fanes  have  suffered  the 
despoiler's  hand.  But  from  out  this  sore 
travail,  thou  hast  given  birth  to  kingly  sons, 
who  have  grandly  honored  their  royal  lineage, 
statesmen,  orators,  poets  and  warriors,  names 
whom  history  delights  to  recall — Emmet, 
Grattan,  O'Connell,  Burke,  Sheridan,  Cas- 
tlereagh,  Wellington,  Goldsmith,  Moore, 
O'Reilly  and  many  another  jewel  in  thy 
crown. 

And  on  one  of  the  upper  rounds  of  thy  long 
ladder  of  Fame  shines  resplendent  the  name 
of  still  another  noble  son,  that  grand  soul, 
great  mind,  tender  heart  and  unusual  person- 
ality of  John  McCullough  !  God  bless  him  ! 


The  perspective  of  Time  enhances  true 
appreciation  of  all  that  is  worthy  of  remem- 
brance. It  is  only  the  ignoble  and  puerile 
that  the  alembic  of  history  sifts  into  oblivion. 
Great  artists,  creative  souls,  like  pictures, 
need  to  be  surveyed  from  a  distance.  Correct 
judgment,  a  clear  discernment  of  their  worth, 


INTRODUCTORY  11 

is  overpowered  by  the  glamour  of  a  too  close 
range  of  observation. 

Even  the  matchless  radiance  of  the  Naza- 
rene  was  appreciated  in  His  day  by  only  a 
handful  of  followers,  and  the  world  does  not 
yet  comprehend  or  utilize  the  full  significance 
of  His  life  and  message. 

Apology  therefore  is  quite  unnecessary  for 
the  fresh  portrayal  of  a  life  which  ceased  on 
this  mortal  plane  two  decades  ago,  which 
flashed  like  a  brilliant  meteor  across  the  sky 
of  human  activity  and  sank  from  mortal  gaze 
all  too  soon.  When  it  could  be  said  of  him, 
by  one  who  knew  the  great  tragedian  well,  that 
"no  man  ever  lived  who  attached  people  to 
him  as  did  John  McCullough,"  it  is  evident 
that  a  lesson  can  be  drawn  from  this  life  far 
grander  than  that  gained  from  the  meed 
bestowed  upon  dramatic  genius  alone,  since 
Love,  of  which  he  was  master  and  king,  is 
"the  greatest  thing  in  the  world."  When  the 
superintendent  of  Mount  Moriah  Cemetery, 
where  rests  the  dust  his  great  spirit  once 
vitalized,  could  express  profound  surprise  at 
the  enduring  longevity  of  the  affection  this 
man  inspired,  since  the  tomb  of  none  other 
among  the  many  silent  occupants  of  his  vast 
city  of  the  dead,  is  ever  sought  out  and  in- 
quired for  with  such  abiding  interest,  such 


12  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

pathos  of  tender  memory,  as  is  that  of  the 
great  actor  today,  a  tribute  is  thereby  paid  to 
the  majesty  of  a  soul,  which,  in  its  passage 
through  this  world,  briefly  "pressed  the  earth 
but  stained  it  not." 

And  it  is  as  a  soul,  that  the  writer  would 
present  him  to  the  thoughtful  consideration 
of  the  world  he  loved,  and  ever  sought  to 
bless,  as  a  soul,  uncreate,  a  soul  whose  age- 
long record  is  not  compassed  by  the  meagre 
half-century  of  this  one  mortal  existence,  a 
soul  which  was  perhaps  hoary  with  experience 
"before  Abraham  was,"  for  only  a  ripened 
soul  could  make  such  indelible  impress  upon 
his  age  and  time,  as  did  this  grand  soul 
through  the  remarkable  personality  of  John 
McCullough. 

To  have  known  and  admired  him  as  the 
great  actor,  who,  at  last,  by  his  affluent 
genius  and  unflagging  industry,  stood  without 
a  peer  on  the  American  stage,  was  only  to 
survey  one  facet  of  the  many-colored  crystal 
of  his  beautiful  character.  His  unimpeach- 
able honor,  his  spotless  integrity,  his  quick, 
ready .  sympathy  which  led  to  such  lavish 
generosity  for  all  in  need,  his  stanch  friend- 
ship, unswerving  fidelity,  his  modest,  child- 
like humility  (the  test  of  greatness  in  any 
soul),  are  not  these  sterling  attributes,  and 


INTRODUCTORY  13 

many  more,  indelibly  inscribed  on  the  tablets 
of  every  heart  which  was  so  blessed  as  to  have 
known  him?  The  record  of  his  unobtrusive, 
unknown  charities  alone  would  fill  a  large 
Volume.  He  owed  no  man  anything  but  to 
love  him.  It  speaks  eloquently  for  his  per- 
ennial patience  and  serenity,  his  unfailing 
sweetness  of  disposition,  through  every  trial 
and  vexation  of  his  arduous  profession,  that 
he  could  have  won  and  worn  for  so  many 
years,  the  universal  soubriquet  of  "genial 
John."  One  of  his  friends  has  testified  that 
"when  he  entered  a  room,  it  was  as  if  a  glow- 
ing fire  had  been  suddenly  lighted  in  the 
grate;  the  beauty  of  his  soul  warmed  one  so 
tangibly."  His  life  was  a  sermon  of  gentle 
deeds  and  gracious  example  more  potent  than 
many  voiced  by  clerical  lips. 

Dr.  A.  P.  Peabody,  in  an  address  before  his 
Harvard  students,  once  assured  them  that 
every  man  should  have  both  a  vocation  and 
an  avocation;  "the  vocation  being  the  prin- 
cipal business  of  life,  the  avocation  some 
worthy  pursuit  to  which  one  might  turn  aside 
for  the  play  of  other  powers,  and  for  refresh- 
ing contact  with  nature  and  human  life."  It 
would  be  hard  to  decide  which  was  McCul- 
lough's  chief  vocation,  his  dramatic  profession 
or  the  larger  field  of  humanitarian  impulse. 


14  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

His  life  was  not  confined  to  the  boards,  behind 
the.  footlights.  He  lived  himself  into  other 
lives,  became  absorbed  in  their  interests  and 
needs,  in  opportunities  for  helpfulness  to 
friend  and  stranger  alike.  It  was  the  broad 
universality  of  his  love  and  fellowship  that 
made  it  possible  for  him  to  enact  a  larger 
repertoire  of  characters  than  any  other  Amer- 
ican actor  has  ever  performed,  the  strength 
and  beauty  of  his  spiritual  nature  making 
itself  felt  through  every  disguise.  The  fruit- 
age of  such  a  soul  bears  a  rich  harvest  of 
golden  grain,  one  whose  sheaves  are  seldom 
counted,  whose  work  is  seldom  appreciated 
save  in  Death's  aftermath. 

"  He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again." 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  DAWN. 

"  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity, 
Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous. 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head." 

—  As  You  Like  It. 


When  Lincoln  was  asked  for  some  facts 
and  circumstances  in  his  early  history  to  be 
inserted  in  the  Congressional  directory,  he 
replied  in  his  quaint  modesty:  "They  may 
all  be  compiled  in  one  line,  'The  short  and 
simple  annals  of  the  poor.' 

No  truer  words  could  describe  the  birth 
and  childhood  of  John  McCullough.  The 
curtain  of  his  mortal  existence  was  rung  up 
on  a  scene  of  great  obscurity  and  with  a 
meagre  audience,  his  theatre  of  action  was 
restricted,  limited  and  circumscribed  by  his 
environment,  and  for  many  years,  no  seer 
would  have  been  so  daring  as  to  prophesy 
for  this  small  Irish  lad,  a  world-wide  recogni- 
tion in  the  annals  of  Fame;  and  yet,  so  mys- 
terious are  the  ways  in  which  Providence 
moves  "its  wonders  to  perform,"  this  child 
was  destined  through  his  own  innate  genius 
and  unwearied  industry,  his  noble  heart 


16  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

and  grand  soul,  to  not  only  electrify  the 
world  with  his  dramatic  art,  but  to  become, 
years  later,  a  factor  in  the  religious,  educa- 
tive and  reformatory  work  of  the  twentieth 
century. 

On  the  north-east  coast  of  Ireland,  where 
the  waters  of  the  North  Channel  unite  with 
the  broad  Atlantic,  near  that  freak  of  Nature's 
sculpturing  (with  the  basaltic  rocks  and  cease- 
less ocean  spray  as  material  and  chisel)  known 
as  the  "Giant's  Causeway,"  and  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river  Bann,  is  situated  the  town  of 
Coleraine,  in  the  County  of  Londonderry. 
Near  this  locality  was  the  little  hamlet  of 
Blakes,  where,  in  a  modest  but  pleasant  cot- 
tage, during  the  years  from  about  1825  to 
1845  resided  James  McCullough,  a  farmer,  and 
his  wife,  Mary. 

It  is  probable  that  the  family  descended 
from  one  James  McCullock  (the  ancient  form 
of  the  name),  who,  in  1649,  emigrated  from 
Scotland  to  the  North  of  Ireland;  and  in  the 
annals  of  heraldry  the  coat  of  arms  belonging 
to  the  McCullough  family  of  this  locality,  is 
thus  described: 

"Argent,  on  a  cross  azure,  five  pheons. 

Crest:  A  cubit  arm  holding  a  dart. 

Motto:  Vi  et  ammo"  (By  strength  and  cour- 
age). 


THE   DAWN  17 

Some  old  warrior  of  the  blood  may  have 
worn  this  crest  when  he  went  forth  to  battle; 
and  certainly  the  spirit  of  its  motto  richly 
imbued  the  life  which  forms  the  subject  of 
this  sketch. 

To  this  comfortable  and  peaceful  home,  as 
the  quiet  years  passed  by,  and  through  the 
gateway  of  mortal  birth,  came  three  daughters 
and  a  son — Mary,  Jane,  John  and  Elizabeth. 
The  advent  of  John  McCullough  occurred 
November  14,  1832,  and  in  the  welcome 
accorded  this  little  waif  on  Time's  shores, 
there  was  little  thought  of  the  impetus  to  the 
world's  progress  which  would  yet  be  accom- 
plished through  the  life  so  inauspiciously 
begun,  little  recognition  that  a  bright  star  of 
genius  then  arose  upon  the  world,  who,  by  his 
invincible  energy  and  masterly  effort,  would 
carve  out  a  niche  in  the  world's  gallery  of 
notable  sons,  peculiarly  his  own,  a  fulfilment 
which,  like  many  another  such  prodigy  of 
human  achievement,  disclaims  the  potency  of 
physical  inheritance. 

Does  heredity  produce  Buddhas  or  Christs? 
Can  it  ever  explain  Platos  or  Shakespeares, 
and  other  great  souls  who  have  stooped  from 
their  hills  of  Light  to  bless  the  world?  The 
genealogy  of  the  soul  can  never  be  traced  in 
human  records.  Even  the  family  Bible  does 


18  JOHN   McCULLOUGH 

not  portray  the  diviner  spiritual  inheritance. 
Genius  is  won,  somewhere,  sometime,  by 
hard,  persistent  effort.  It  is  not  a  gift,  a 
chance  bestowal  by  a  capricious  Creator. 
Favoritism,  partiality  are  not  Deific  attri- 
butes. 

So  this  soul,  having  hitherto  won  its  spurs 
in  some  sphere  of  activity,  seeking  now  its 
chosen  mission  through  human  expression, 
adopts  this  humble  abode  as  its  fostering  soil, 
the  mother's  temperament  being  the  avenue 
of  affinity  which  made  this  possible. 

John  was  always  a  sturdy,  healthy  boy, 
while  yet  possessed  of  a  sensitive  nature.  He 
was  not  the  boy  to  be  put  at  hard  work  on  the 
farm,  as  lads  of  coarser  metal  often  are,  he 
had  no  fitness  for  this  toil,  was  not  a  success 
in  such  occupation.  He  was  fond  of  horses, 
of  hunting  and  fishing,  of  out-door  sports  and 
games,  very  fond  of  the  woods,  not  alone  from 
his  innate  love  of  nature,  but  for  the  seclusion 
and  retirement  the  forest  afforded  him.  He 
loved  solitude,  and  yet  the  monotony  of  his 
boyhood's  life,  he  has  since  declared,  was  its 
most  irksome  feature.  If  his  day-dreams  ever 
painted  the  glorious  future  awaiting  him,  the 
contrast  thereto  must  indeed  have  been  pain- 
fully monotonous. 

While  naturally  social,  and  possessed  of  a 


THE   DAWN  19 

happy,  cheerful  disposition,  he  was  at  times 
uncommunicative,  and  to  a  close  observer, 
if  any  such  there  were  to  regard  him,  he 
might  have  seemed  a  somewhat  strange  order 
of  the  genus — boy.  One  wonders  if  his  strong 
spirit  ever  felt  a  half-conscious  homesickness 
in  his  modest  environment,  realized  its  unfit- 
ness  to  educe  his  latent  powers  towards 
unfoldment,  and  one  questions  what  pictures 
were  revealed  to  him  in  the  firelight  of  peat, 
which  filled  the  wide  chimney  of  his  small  but 
pleasant  home!  Did  he  even  then  feel  the 
restlessness  of  undeveloped  power,  a  longing 
of  the  gifted  nature  to  try  its  wings  ?  Perhaps 
the  plunge  in  Lethean  waters,  necessary  at 
the  gateway  of  every  mortal  birth,  effaced 
soul  memories  and  consciousness  of  power, 
which  might  otherwise  have  breeded  discon- 
tent. 

Yet  it  is  only  through  misfortune  that 
ripeness  is  attained.  Sorrow  is  ever  the  latch- 
key to  power,  the  entering- wedge  to  divine 
estate. 

"  Only  those  are  crowned  and  sainted, 
Who  with  grief  have  been  acquainted." 

And  affliction  soon  found  entrance  to  this 
humble  abode.  Prosperity  was  not  an  abiding 
guest.  The  struggles  with  toil  and  threatened 


20  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

poverty,  with  unremitting  labor  which  missed 
the  prize  of  recompense,  the  simple  expenses 
which  yet  overtaxed  the  slender  purse,  the 
failure  of  crops  on  which  sustenance  depended, 
all  these  trials  are  an  unwritten  history.  And 
in  1844,  when  John  was  a  lad  of  twelve,  the 
patient  mother,  who  perhaps  dimly  under- 
stood her  boy's  gifted  nature,  as  motherly 
prescience  often  does,  closed  her  eyes  in  the 
long  sleep.  Soon  after  this  great  loss,  the 
father,  being  unable  to  pay  his  rent  to  the 
landlord  of  that  wide  country  side— Sir  Hugh 
Bruce  (whose  adjacent  castle  gates  were 
flanked  on  either  side  by  stone  lions  sculp- 
tured by  the  grandfather  of  our  hero,  another 
John  McCullough,  a  stone  cutter  and  sculptor 
of  considerable  skill),  suffered  the  usual  pen- 
alty of  eviction,  and  another  home  was  sought. 
A  little  later,  it  was  decided  that  John  and 
Jane  should  seek  their  fortunes  in  America. 
They  started  thither  on  a  sailing  vessel,  and 
for  once,  Fortune  did  not  favor  the  brave. 
The  vessel  soon  began  to  leak  so  badly  that 
they  were  obliged  to  put  back  to  port,  for 
repairs.  Again  they  fared  forth,  with  the 
same  result.  For  the  third  time,  the  venture- 
some captain  dared  the  tempestuous  Atlantic 
in  this  frail  craft,  but  again  was  forced  to 
put  back  to  Liverpool,  where  the  ship  was 


THE    DAWN  21 

condemned  as  unseaworthy  and  a  new  vessel 
was  substituted.  At  this  juncture,  discretion 
seemed  the  better  part  of  valor  to  the  young 
boy,  and  he  remained  on  land,  while  his  daunt- 
less sister,  only  eighteen  months  his  senior, 
continued  her  journey  alone,  and  reached  New 
York  just  thirteen  weeks  after  leaving  home. 

John  crossed  over  to  Ireland,  and  later 
visited  an  uncle,  from  whom  he  received  a 
small  sum  of  money,  which  was  his  rightful 
inheritance  from  his  maternal  grandfather. 
With  this,  he  again  started  for  America,  per- 
haps hearing  the  call  of  a  higher  Wisdom 
which  designed  other  pathways  for  his  young 
feet  to  tread,  but  also  keenly  regretting  his 
apparent  desertion  of  his  sister.  He  wished 
to  rejoin  her,  as  he  did  in  a  short  time, 
although  his  entire  worldly  possessions  might 
then  have  been  contained  in  a  small  bundle, 
suspended  by  a  stick  over  his  shoulder. 

This  sister,  who  was  always  her  brother's 
stanch  friend  and  supporter,  is  today,  as  Mrs. 
John  Wert  of  Dunmore,  Pa.,  the  sole  surviv- 
ing member  of  her  family.  The  father  and 
sisters  eventually  followed  John  and  Jane  to 
this  country  and  have  all  since  deceased,  Mary 
as  the  wife  of  James  Smith  of  Statington,  Pa., 
and  Elizabeth  as  Mrs.  Thomas  Young  of  Dun- 
more,  all  finding  sepulture  in  America,  except- 


22  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

ing  the  gentle  mother,  whose  ashes  rest 
alone  where  her  earthly  tasks  were  ended, 
and  where  the  reverberating  thunder  of  the 
vast  sea  surrounding  her  island  bier,  sounds 
no  requiem,  but  rather  majestic  hallelujahs 
of  triumph  over  the  freedom  of  an  arisen 
spirit,  to  which  her  voice  may  add  a  glad 
Te  Deum  of  thanksgiving  that  she  was  chosen 
as  the  instrument  through  which  a  grand  soul 
found  incarnation  in  mortal  form,  and  to 
whose  earthly  mission  she  perhaps,  by  her 
early  departure,  was  enabled  to  minister,  as 
guardian  angel,  throughout  his  eventful  pil- 
grimage. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NEW  WORLD. 

"  Thus  I  turn  my  back; 
There  is  a  world  elsewhere." 

— Coriolanus. 

It  is  usually  considered  a  wise  Providence 
that  veils  the  future  from  human  ken.  But 
is  it  thus  veiled  by  divine  decree,  by  aught 
but  mortal  ignorance  and  blindness?  As  the 
race  advances  in  spiritual  unfoldment,  will  not 
deeper  knowledge  of  divine  laws  reveal  com- 
ing events  and  make  wise  preparation  there- 
for? Will  not  clearer  prescience,  an  intelli- 
gent use  of  spiritual  eyes  and  ears,  a  closer 
at-one-ment  with  the  divine  plan  and  purpose, 
a  deeper  soul-consciousness,  be  able  to  foresee 
all  that  the  soul  will  meet  and  accomplish 
during  its  mortal  career?  There  are  certainly 
times  and  seasons  when  a  knowledge  of  the 
treasures  the  future  holds  in  its  keeping, 
would  prove  of  inestimable  advantage  to  the 
struggling  toiler  up  Life's  slope;  and  to  the 
wise,  there  are  no  sorrows  whose  prevision 
would  dismay.  These  are  but  angels  in  dis- 
guise, ministrants  to  that  growth  which  is 
sought  as  the  highest  goal. 


23 


24  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Would  it  not  thus  have  proven  a  boon  of 
greatest  comfort  and  encouragement  to  the 
poor  Irish  lad  who  landed  on  our  shores  in  the 
spring  of  1847— -"a  youth  to  fortune  and  to 
fame  unknown"  ?  Although  the  fire  of  youth- 
ful hope  and  enthusiasm  may  have  burned 
high  in  his  true  heart,  the  indomitable  per- 
severance and  earnestness  of  his  strong  nature 
may  have  felt  equal  for  any  conflict,  or  any 
defeat,  still  the  lack  of  the  necessary  tools  for 
mastery  in  Life's  battles,  the  deficiencies  of 
education  which  he  sadly  lacked,  of  friends, 
or  money,  made  his  position  indeed  a  forlorn 
one.  He  knew  little  even  of  the  resources  of 
our  language,  he  had  gained  only  the  facility 
to  extract  a  meagre  intelligence  from  the 
printed  page.  Of  writing,  he  as  yet  knew 
less,  and  perhaps  had  never  heard  of  science, 
of  literature,  of  art,  of  which  he  afterwards 
became  so  scholarly,  so  brilliant  an  exponent. 

Ah,  if  this  boy,  then  homeless,  friendless, 
unlettered,  unknown,  could  have  foreseen  that 
he  was  yet  to  gain  the  esteem,  the  admiration, 
the  warm  love  of  millions  of  hearts  on  this 
strange  soil,  that  all  over  this  wide  country 
and  in  the  lands  he  had  left  behind  him, 
across  the  sea,  that  his  name  would  yet  become 
a  household  word  of  honor  and  praise;  if  he 
could  have  known  that  when  his  notable 


THE    NEW   WORLD  25 

career  should  at  last  end,  less  than  forty  years 
later,  that  his  transition  would  move  this 
American  world  with  the  sense  of  deepest 
loss,  would  prove  a  personal  affliction  to  many 
hearts;  if  he  could  have  dreamed  that  the 
thousands  who  would  then  wish  to  do  honor 
to  his  deserted  tenement,  would  even  block 
the  street  traffic  of  a  large  and  busy  city, 
would  such  gratifying  prophecy  have  relaxed 
his  endeavors,  lessened  his  energies,  or  would 
it  not  have  lent  grateful  fuel  to  the  fire  of 
genius  which  glowed  and  burned  as  a  latent 
flame  within  his  soul? 

Perhaps  nowhere  in  the  entire  field  of 
biographical  history  exists  so  marked  a  con- 
trast in  so  few  years,  as  this  life  affords 
between  poverty,  obscurity  and  ignorance, 
and  the  height  it  reached  of  scholarly  emi- 
nence, of  culture,  of  varied  knowledge,  great 
literary  resources  and  of  world- wide  fame. 

Such  a  victory  enforces  a  deep  lesson  of 
encouragement  and  zest  to  every  aspirant  for 
success,  in  any  field.  No  soul  dreams  of  its 
latent  possibilities,  of  the  gifts  it  may  unfold, 
of  the  power  innately  its  own,  the  dominance 
it  can  freely  exercise  over  all  deficiencies,  all 
discouragements.  Forces  unseen  but  potent, 
wait  to  serve  as  wings  on  which  it  can  mount 
to  worthy  achievement,  even  though  it  be 


26  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

in  the  lowly  path,  the  humble  but  noble  toil. 
The  first  purpose  of  this  young  immigrant, 
on  landing  at  the  dock  in  New  York,  and 
rejoining  his  sister,  was  to  reach  Philadelphia, 
where  an  uncle  had  once  lived,  prior  to  his 
decease,  but  of  whose  family  nothing  was 
known.  On  arrival  in  the  Quaker  city,  the 
lad  set  about  the  difficult  task  of  tramping 
through  the  streets,  reading  business  signs,  a 
task  continued  with  his  usual  earnestness  for 
three  days.  He  afterwards  related  with  what 
glad  surprise,  as  he  walked  through  this 
strange  city,  he  suddenly  beheld  upon  a  sign- 
board, over  a  store  door  on  Front  street, 
above  Willow,  the  letters  which  spelled  out 
his  own  name, 

JOHN  McCULLOUGH. 
He  crossed  the  street,  entered  the  shop  and 
claimed  kinship  with  its  proprietor,  who 
proved  indeed  to  be  his  own  cousin,  the  only 
survivor  of  his  uncle's  family,  who  had  been 
reared  by  friends  and  by  them  established  in 
the  business  of  chair-making,  an  important 
occupation  at  that  time,  as  all  furniture  was 
then  made  by  hand,  prior  to  the  advent  of 
modern  machinery.  This  young  mechanic 
kindly  made  his  newly -found  cousins  welcome, 
and  became  warmly  interested  in  them,  event- 
ually (although  John  first  found  employment 


THE    NEW   WORLD  27 

in  wheeling  coal  at  the  gas  works),  receiving 
him  as  an  apprentice  at  the  chair-making 
trade,  which  humble  employment  he  followed 
for  some  years.  He  proved  to  be  very  handy 
with  tools  and  soon  became  a  skillful  work- 
man. It  has  been  truthfully  said  of  him  that 
he  always  accomplished  whatever  he  under- 
took to  do,  and  both  in  his  childhood  as  in 
maturer  years,  the  energy  and  perseverance 
which  he  devoted  to  every  pursuit  were 
strong  traits  of  his  character. 

In  his  seventeenth  year,  this  lad,  who  still 
had  upon  his  tongue  "the  soft  round  brogue 
of  his  native  land, "  went  to  board  with  Samuel 
McClain  on  Otter  street,  Kensington,  there 
becoming  acquainted  with  the  daughter  of 
the  house,  Miss  Letitia  McClain,  whom  he 
subsequently  married.  Two  sons  were  the 
fruit  of  this  union,  James,  born  July  4,  1850, 
and  William  Johnson  (the  latter  named  for 
McCullough's  life-long  friend  and  benefactor), 
born  December  2,  1860.  An  acquaintance 
recalls  the  deep  fatherly  pride  and  affection 
with  which  he  was  wont  to  walk  abroad  with 
his  two  handsome  boys,  and  how  he  delighted 
to  stand  them  up  on  some  counter  of  a  corner 
grocery  store,  and  fill  their  pockets  with  nuts 
or  candies,  which  they  rewarded  with  some 
childish  recitation. 


28  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Every  member  of  this  family  circle  found 
an  early  departure  from  this  plane  of  exist- 
ence, and  their  dust  now  rests  in  the  tomb 
with  his  own.  The  sole  descendant  is  the 
fair  young  daughter  of  James  McCullough, 
now  Mrs.  Alexander  Steen.  She  resides  in 
Philadelphia,  and  has  two  beautiful  children, 
Beatrice  McCullough  and  Maurice  Moore,  the 
tragedian's  great-grandchildren. 

The  family  record  on  the  tomb  at  Mount 
Moriah  Cemetery  is  as  follows: 

JOHN  McCULLOUGH 
Born  Nov.  14,  1832. 
Died  Nov.  8,  1885. 
In  the  53rd  year  of  his  age. 

WILLIAM  JOHNSON  McCULLOUGH 
Born  Dec.  2,  1860. 
Died  Feb.  25,  1886. 
In  the  26th  year  of  his  age. 

LETITIA  McCULLOUGH 

Wife  of 

JOHN  McCULLOUGH 
Born  April  26,  1833. 
Died  January  22,  1888. 
In  the  55th  year  of  her  age. 

JAMES  McCULLOUGH 
Born  July  4,  1850. 
Died  January  31,  1892. 
In  the  42nd  year  of  his  age. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  OPEN  DOOR. 

"  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune." 

—Julius  Ccesar. 

Nothing  ever  happens.  There  are  no  acci- 
dents or  especial  dispensations  of  Providence 
in  a  universe  of  most  marvellous  adjustment  to 
intricate,  subtle,  but  divine  order.  "Eternal 
law  each  chance  doth  guide." 

Therefore,  it  was  by  no  chance  that  in  the 
same  shop  where  young  McCullough  worked 
at  chair-making,  was  also  employed  an  intel- 
ligent old  mechanic,  named  Burke,  who  pos- 
sessed an  ardent  admiration  for  the  bard  of 
Avon,  and  was  constantly  reciting  long  pas- 
sages from  Shakespeare  to  the  boy's  profound 
delight.  It  was  the  enriching  phosphate  to 
the  soil  of  his  genius,  the  tocsin  call  that 
aroused  his  slumbering  soul,  awakened  it  to 
unfoldment  and  action,  and  proved  the  enter- 
ing wedge  to  fame  and  fortune. 

The  old  man's  favorite  amusement,  when  in 
convivial  mood,  was  to  murder  young  McCul- 
lough with  a  paint  brush,  lay  his  prostrate 
form  upon  a  bench,  and  then  recite  over  it, 


30  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

with  great  dramatic  fervor,  Marc  Antony's 
speech  over  the  dead  Caesar.  Years  later., 
when  McCullough  had  become  famous,  he 
loved  to  recount  this  early  episode,  and  would 
say: 

"I  became  perfectly  enraptured  with  the 
man,  and  made  such  a  patient,  accommodat- 
ing corpse  that  he  finally  made  me  a  present 
of  a  copy  of  Shakespeare.  From  that  day, 
the  doom  of  the  chair-making  business,  so  far 
as  I  was  concerned,  was  sealed  forever.  To 
me,  the  book  was  a  revelation.  I  had  never 
heard  of  Shakespeare  before.  I  pored  over 
it  with  the  delight  of  a  child  at  the  first  read- 
ing of  'Arabian  Nights,'  and  almost  uncon- 
sciously began  to  commit  the  most  famous 
lines  to  memory,  until  it  was  soon  Burke 's 
turn  to  be  stabbed  with  a  paint  brush,  and 
to  be  laid  out  on  the  bench,  while  /  invited 
the  sympathies  of  the  shop." 

At  this  time,  McCullough 's  facility  in  read- 
ing was  still  so  imperfect,  that  it  was  his  cus- 
tom to  seat  himself  on  the  steps  of  the  shop, 
when  the  children  were  returning  from  school, 
and  coax  them  to  read  for  him  lines  from 
his  beloved  volume,  which  he  then  repeated 
after  them,  and  thus  secured  in  his  retentive 
memory. 

The  old  man  also  took  the  lad  with  him  to 


THE    OPEN    DOOR  31 

the  "spout  shop",  as  he  called  the  room  where 
he  and  a  company  of  fellow  amateurs  held 
forth,  occasionally,  and  later,  treated  him  to 
a  genuine  performance  at  the  old  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  this  first  drama  which  McCullough 
ever  witnessed  being  Shiel's  tragedy  of  "The 
Apostate,"  which  the  elder  Booth  made  so 
famous  in  his  great  role  of  Pescara.  (It  is  a 
singular  coincidence  that  the  last  time  John 
Wilkes  Booth  ever  appeared  in  public  per- 
formance, was  at  a  fraternal  benefit  tendered 
to  McCullough,  in  Washington,  and  the  play 
was  "The  Apostate.") 

The  apprentice  became,  in  the  intervals  of 
his  toil,  a  diligent  student,  most  of  his  time 
being  spent  in  closest  study  and  research 
along  literary  and  dramatic  lines;  this  with 
no  intent  then  of  becoming  an  actor,  but  the 
expanding  germ  of  power  within,  impelled 
him  along  this  path.  Gifted  with  remarkable 
natural  intelligence,  with  keen,  quick  percep- 
tions, wonderful  powers  of  observation  and 
absorption,  and  a  most  retentive  memory,  his 
progress  was  rapid.  As  one  great  feat  of  his 
strong  mind,  it  is  recorded  that  in  a  brief 
month,  he  had  devoured  the  whole  of  "Cham- 
bers' Encyclopaedia  of  English  Literature," 
digesting  and  absorbing  it  so  thoroughly,  that 
he  could  quote  from  its  data  as  reliably,  as  if 


32  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

the  volumes  were  open  before  him,  the  career 
of  the  great  minds  in  the  field  of  classic  litera- 
ture being  henceforth  to  him  familiar  history 

Meanwhile  the  potent  magnet  of  his  genius, 
and  his  zeal  for  knowledge,  attracted  into  his 
atmosphere  all  that  could  foster  its  unfold- 
ment.  It  was  quite  natural  then  that  he 
should  at  this  early  stage  of  his  career,  unite 
himself  with  a  local  dramatic  club,  "The 
Boothenian  Dramatic  Association,"  which 
held  its  meetings  and  gave  occasional  per- 
formances in  the  fourth  story  of  an  abandoned 
warehouse,  once  used  as  a  sugar  refinery. 
This  young  recruit  in  the  ranks  of  this  amateur 
association,  achieved  such  honorable  position 
therein,  that  on  one  occasion  he  was  permitted 
to  play  "Othello,"  with  their  support,  at  the 
Callowhill  Street  Museum  in  Philadelphia. 

This  early  attempt  at  "Othello"  was  wit- 
nessed by  William  S.  Fredericks;  then  acting 
and  stage  manager  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
(of  which  Wheatley  and  Clarke  were  propri- 
etors) and  noted  as  one  of  the  most  careful 
and  judicious  stage  managers  in  the  country. 
The  young  man  strongly  attracted  this  vet- 
eran's attention.  He  noticed  that  McCul- 
lotigh  was  letter  perfect  in  his  lines,  that  he 
had  a  strong,  rich,  melodious  voice,  and  spoke 
so  as  to  be  heard  in  all  parts  of  the  house. 


THE    OPEN    DOOR  33 

His  personal  bearing  at  this  time,  as  always, 
was  imposing,  impressive  and  attractive.  His 
fine,  frank  face  and  grand  head,  with  its 
wealth  of  brown  hair,  was  illumined  by  kindly, 
soulful,  blue  eyes  and  one  of  the  sweetest 
smiles,  his  friends  all  aver,  that  was  ever  seen 
on  the  lips  of  man,  woman  or  child,  the 
parted  lips  revealing  his  perfect  teeth.  His 
beautiful  soul  shone  radiantly  through  every 
window  and  avenue  of  expression. 

But,  on  the  strength  of  his  gifts  of  dramatic 
promise,  Mr.  Fredericks  offered  him  a  posi- 
tion to  play  minor  parts  in  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  at  a  salary  of  four  dollars  per  week, 
which  he  accepted,  greatly  to  the  disapproval  of 
his  cousin,  who  believed  "there  were  more  four- 
leaved  clovers  to  be  found  in  his  factory,  than 
on  the  Thespian  stage."  This  new  aspirant 
for  dramatic  honors  was  first  cast  for  the  part 
of  Thomas,  the  servant,  in  "The  Belle's  Strat- 
agem," this  initial  performance  occurring 
August  15,  1857. 

On  the  Monday  following  his  first  appear- 
ance, Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport  opened  an  engage- 
ment at  the  "Arch,"  in  "The  Wife,"  wherein 
the  duty  was  assigned  to  young  John  of  hold- 
ing Mr.  Davenport  in  his  arms,  while  he  died, 
on  the  stage,  and  it  was  noticed  that  the 
supporter  was  much  more  shaky  in  the  scene 


34  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

than  the  dying  man,  and  nearly  dropped 
the  prospective  corpse.  But  Davenport  was 
exceedingly  kind  to  the  young  beginner,  and, 
giving  him  later,  a  small  part  in  '  Julius 
Caesar,"  patted  him  on  the  shoulder,  at 
rehearsal,  and  said: 

"  Now  John,  to-night,  I  want  you  to  be 
careful  above  all  things  to  look  like  a  Roman," 
whereupon  it  is  recorded,  that  the  young 
novice,  being  determined  to  do  his  best,  after 
a  slight  indecision  as  to  whether  he  should 
spend  the  last  twenty-five  cents  he  had  in  the 
world,  to  have  his  hair  curled,  that  his  resem- 
blance to  a  Roman  might  be  more  enhanced, 
or  get  something  to  eat,  went  onto  the  stage 
with  his  hair  nicely  curled,  but  with  an  empty 
stomach,  and  on  that  night,  received  his  first 
round  of  applause.  Even  at  this  early  day, 
he  could  readily  have  prompted  the  star  in 
any  of  the  leading  characters  of  Shakespeare, 
he  had  memorized  them  so  carefully. 

From  this  time,  his  efforts  were  redoubled. 
Perhaps  the  stage  never  possessed  a  more 
painstaking,  laborious  student,  through  all 
obstacles  and  hardships.  His  part  was  always 
perfectly  committed,  and  performed  to  the 
best  of  his  ability,  an  ever  increasing  quan- 
tity. For  each  ray  of  light  from  any  field  of 
observation  or  study,  every  advanced  idea, 


THE   OPEN    DOOR  35 

which  his  eager,  zealous  mind  absorbed  from 
any  source  was  at  once  utilized  in  his  dra- 
matic •  impersonations.  As  one  critic  has 
declared:  "He  did  not  stand  still,  he  was 
not  lazy.  Each  night  put  him  a  step  in 
advance  of  the  point  already  attained.  Mc- 
Cullough  studied  to  advance  his  profession, 
as  well  as  himself,  which  not  only  produced 
the  desired  result  but  laid  the  foundation  of 
a  fame  which  has  enriched  the.  dramatic 
history  of  the  country." 

He  studied  elocution  with  Mr.  Lemuel 
White,  the  tutor  of  many  noted  actors,  and 
it  was  at  his  house  that  McCullough  met  Mr. 
William  F.  Johnson,  then  a  student,  now  a 
prominent  lawyer  of  Philadelphia,  from  whom 
he  received  not  only  sympathy  and  friendship, 
but  who  henceforth  fostered  the  young  actor's 
desire  for  a  liberal  education,  directing  his 
studies  in  many  growthful  channels,  and  was 
ever  his  devoted  assistant  and  faithful  friend. 
It  was  through  his  judicious  training  that 
McCullough  chiefly  obtained  his  education, 
and  by  his  advice,  attention  was  directed  to 
departments  of  learning  apart  from  the  stage, 
which  made  the  actor  the  polished,  scholarly 
gentleman  he  afterwards  became. 

In  Mrs.  Drew's  Autobiography,  an  old  play 
bill  of  this  era  is  included,  proclaiming  the 


36  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Second  Week  '(November  29,  1859)  of  that 
"  Gloriously  Successful  "  Drama,  "  Fast  Men 
of  the  Olden  Time,"  in  whose  cast  the  name 
of  "  Mr.  McCullough  "  appears  in  the  char- 
acter of  Charles  I.-  King  of  England. 

This  young  man  was  next  offered  a  position 
for  one  year — the  season  of  1860-61 — in  the 
stock  company  of  the  Howard  Atheneum, 
Boston,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  E.  L. 
Davenport.  Years  later,  an  incident  of  this 
era  was  related  by  W.  J.  Florence,  illustrating 
even  at  this  early  period  in  McCullough 's 
career, -how  accurate  a  student  he  was  of 
Shakespeare. 

Messrs.  Davenport  and  Florence  were  dress- 
ing for  a  performance  in  the  same  room,  when 
Davenport  quoted  a  line  from  Shakespeare, 
also  giving,  as  he  supposed,  the  play  from 
which  he  was  quoting.  Mr.  McCullough,  who 
was  dressing  in  an  adjoining  room,  overhear- 
ing the  quotation,  knocked  on  the  partition 
and  said,  ;<  No,  Mr.  Davenport,  you  have 
quoted  from  the  wrong  play."  To  think  of 
such  a  Shakespearian  scholar  as  Mr.  Daven- 
port being  corrected  by  a  novice,  a  stripling 
in  experience,  was  almost  beyond  calm  endur- 
ance. So  Mr.  Davenport  paid  no  attention 
to  the  remark,  passing  it  over  in  silence. 
During  the  following  day,  however,  he  con- 


THE    OPEN    DOOR  37 

suited  his  Shakespeare,  and  found  that  he  had 
quoted  wrongly.  Therefore,  at  the  next  even- 
ing's performance,  he  acknowledged  to  Mc- 
Cullough,  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  com- 
plimenting the  young  actor  on  the  accuracy 
of  his  Shakespearian  knowledge  and  also  pre- 
dicting for  him  a  great  future.  His  advance, 
however,  was  most  gradual,  while  steady  and 
continuous,  and  always  richly  deserved.  By 
the  force  of  his  highly  endowed  emotional 
nature,  he  succeeded  as  few  actors,  his  equals 
perhaps  in  other  respects,  have  been  able  to, 
in  identifying  himself  with  the  part  he  was 
playing. 

An  incident  of  this  season  at  the  Howard 
Atheneum  is  related  by  his  friend,  Mr.  John- 
son, which '  is  indicative  of  his  character, 
his  ambition,  ability  and  dauntless  purpose. 
Davenport,  the  star,  was  suddenly  taken  ill 
and  could  not  appear  in  his  part,  which  was 
that  of  Robert  Landry  in  "  The  Dead  Heart," 
one  of  the  longest  parts  in  the  modern 
romantic  drama.  Young  McCullough  was 
directed  at  noon  to  be  in  readiness  to  come 
on  and  read  the  lines  that  evening.  He  took 
the  play  home,  committed  the  whole  of  it  to 
memory  within  the  short  interval,  and  with- 
out previous  explanation  to  anybody  in  the 
theatre,  he  went  onto  the  stage  letter  perfect, 


38  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

and  played  Robert  Landry  very  creditably. 
He  always  felt  that  this  episode  had  a  marked 
influence  upon  his  subsequent  fortunes,  as  the 
accomplishment  of  this  difficult  feat  became 
widely  known,  and  reached  the  ears  of  Edwin 
Forrest. 

In  the  fall  of  1861,  he  was  again  in  Phila- 
delphia, at  the  Walnut-Street  Theatre,  then 
conducted  by  Mrs.  Garretson.  It  was  here 
that  his  great  promise  of  dramatic  excellence 
attracted  anew  the  attention  of  Edwin  For- 
rest, who  requested  his  release  from  Mrs. 
Garretson,  securing  her  consent  by  the  offer 
to  play  at  her  benefit,  a  promise  afterwards 
fulfilled. 

McCullough  was  now  engaged  as  Forrest's 
support  in  those  great  dramas  peculiarly  his 
own,  playing  Richmond,  lago,  Pythias,  Mac- 
duff,  Edgar,  Icilius,  and  similar  parts,  appear- 
ing first  with  Forrest  at  Dayton,  Ohio,  and 
traveling  with  him  throughout  the  country, 
gaining  constantly  in  experience  and  popu- 
larity, until  he  became  a  general  favorite, 
winning  all  hearts  by  the  great  charm  of  his 
personality,  as  well  as  by  the  excellence  of 
his  talents. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  GOLDEN  GATE. 

"  The  portal  to  a  wide  expanse 
Whose  very  name  exhales  romance. 
A  country,  peerless,  wondrous,  great, 
And  guarded  by  a  Golden  Gate." 

— Clarence  Urmy. 

In  the  height  of  his  fame,  McCullough  was 
wont  to  declare  that  the  first  time  a  suggestion 
of  the  position  it  was  his  destiny  to  attain 
upon  the  stage,  or  when  the  possibility  of  any 
future  greatness  ever  dawned  upon  him,  was 
in  his  first  appearance  with  Forrest  in  Boston, 
in  October,  1861,  in  the  character  of  Pythias, 
which  he  played  to  Forrest's  Damon.  At  the 
close  of  the  performance,  there  were  loud 
cries  from  the  audience  for  Pythias  as  well  as 
for  the  older  star;  and  Forrest,  taking  the 
young  actor's  hand,  led  him  to  the  footlights 
to  receive  the  enthusiastic  plaudits  of  the 
people,  who  greeted  him  with  prolonged 
cheers.  It  was  thus  that  his  great  modesty 
gained  recognition  of  his  own  genius.  He 
then  knew  he  had  "  made  a  hit." 

At  a  prior  rendition,  however,  a  kind  act 
of  Forrest's  is  recorded.  In  the  part  of 


40  JOPIN     McCULLOUGH 

Pythias,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  Damon, 
on  the  stage,  being  attacked,  Pythias  rushes 
from  the  wings,  crying:  "  Back,  on  your 
lives,  cowards  !"  and  then  advances  to  clasp 
the  hand  of  his  friend.  As  McCullough  did 
this,  Forrest  noticed  that  he  was  weak  and 
trembling  from  stage  nervousness,  and  that 
his  hand  was  limp  and  clammy.  With  much 
presence  of  mind,  Forrest  whispered  encour- 
agingly, "  Cheer  up,  my  boy,  you  are  looking 
well  and  doing  well."  He  pressed  his  hand 
with  a  warm,  magnetic  grasp,  and  infused 
such  new  life  into  him,  that  he  played  the 
part  most  brilliantly. 

The  only  criticism  ever  made  upon  the 
acting  of  McCullough  has  been  that  he  was 
a  copy  of  Forrest,  imitated  his  methods  and 
mannerisms  with  a  lesser  power.  And  this 
stricture  at  first,  may  have  been  to  a  degree 
true,  and  was  a  natural  result  of  their  close 
association.  But  Forrest  also  gained  from 
the  softening,  refining  influence  of  the  gentler 
spirit  of  McCullough,  who  steadily  gained  the 
confidence  and  affection  of  his  chief.  Forrest 
soon  discovered  that  he  could  rely  upon 
McCullough  for  all  arrangements  upon  the 
stage,  and  once,  early  in  their  connection, 
asked  him  how  he  wanted  certain  parts  of 
"  Othello  "  to  be  presented  on  an  opening 


THE    GOLDEN     GATE  41 

night;  and  again,  in  response  to  a  query, 
Forrest  said:  "  McCullough,  play  the  part  to 
the  best  of  your  ability  and  that  will  please 
me. ' '  But  Forrest  was  not  noted  for  tolerance 
or  patience  with  a  laggard  or  careless  per- 
former, his  rebukes  being  often  caustic  and 
severe. 

On  one  occasion,  his  leading  lady,  a  pop- 
ular actress  and  estimable  woman,  missed  a 
word  of  her  part,  -at  rehearsal.  Forfest  rep- 
rimanded her  most  sharply,  and  the  lady 
departed  as  the  rehearsal  ended.  But  the 
potent  leaven  of  McCullough 's  gentler  spirit 
worked  upon  Forrest's  fiery  temperament 
with  subtle  power.  His  rebuke,  in  such 
kindly  atmosphere,  seemed  especially  severe, 
until,  realizing  what  hasty  mistake  he  had 
made,  Forrest  asked  McCullough  if  he  knew 
the  lady's  residence;  and  together  they  called 
upon  the  worthy  actress  while  Forrest  made 
proper  apology  for  his  rude  language.  For- 
rest thus  often,  it  is  said,  "  relied  upon  his 
younger  co-laborer  for  a  word  of  cool  judg- 
ment, at  the  proper  season." 

McCullough  was  always  the  true-hearted, 
courteous  gentleman,  right  and  not  policy 
being  the  keynote  of  his  character.  He  dared 
to  do  right,  and  chose  naturally  the  honorable 
course,  at  all  times,  under  all  circumstances. 


42  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

After  playing  with  Forrest  throughout  the 
country  for  four  or  five  years,  he  accompanied 
him  to  California  (whither  the  great  artist 
went  "  by  invitation  of  the  State  officers  and 
members  of  the  Senate  and  Assembly — a 
small  portion  of  his  many  admirers  on  the 
Pacific  coast  "),  in  the  early  months  of  1866, 
making  the  long  journey  by  way  of  the  Isth- 
mus, landing  at  San  Francisco  May  3,  and 
opening  at  Maguire's  Theatre  May  14,  in 
the  play  of  "  Richelieu,"  Forrest  acting  the 
Cardinal,  and  McCullough,  De  Mauprat.  He 
shared  Forrest's  triumphs  here  for  thirty-five 
performances,  with  an  average  business  of 
a  thousand  dollars  a  night,  a  success  suddenly 
checked  by  the  illness  and  retirement  of  the 
older  tragedian,  who,  after  spending  some 
months  in  search  of  health  on  the  Pacific 
slope,  journeyed  eastward. 

McCullough  afterwards  declared  that  with 
Forrest's  return,  he  parted  from  his  best 
friend,  then  and  there,  and,  alluding  to  the 
common  belief  that  Forrest  was  cross  and 
ugly,  added:  "  To  me  he  was  always  the 
same  whole-souled,  liberal  and  entirely  just 
companion  and  friend,  and  I  cannot  forget, 
if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred,  that  it  is  to  these 
qualities  of  his  that  I  owe  my  present  posi- 
tion." 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE  43 

Ah,  but  no  assistance,  encouragement,  or 
strong  support  could  have  advanced  a  worth- 
less soul.  The  Promethean  fire  was  there, 
only  awaiting  a  kindly  breath  to  fan  it  into 
living  flame. 

At  the  close  of  their  business  settlement, 
Forrest  said  to  McCullough:  "  I  believe  I 
have  kept  my  agreement  with  you  to  the 
letter,  but  before  we  part,  I  want  to  thank  you 
for  your  strict  fidelity  to  your  professional 
duties  at  all  times.  And  allow  me  to  say,  that 
I  have  been  most  of  all  pleased  to  see  you 
uniformly  so  studious  and  zealous  in  your 
efforts  to  improve.  Continue  in  this  course, 
firm  against  any  temptation,  and  you  will 
command  a  proud  and  happy  future.  Now, 
as  a  token  of  my  esteem,  I  put  into  your 
hands,  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars,  which 
I  want  you  to  invest  for  your  little  boy,  to 
accumulate  until  he  is  twenty-one  years  old, 
and  then  to  be  given  to  him." 

McCullough  said  that  "  with  the  exception 
of  two  or  three  memorable  outbreaks,  which 
he  immediately  forgave  and  forgot,  Forrest 
was  extremely  kind  to  him,  sparing  no  pains 
to  encourage  and  further  him,"  and  in  return, 
the  younger  man  would  at  any  time  "  have 
gladly  given  his  heart's  blood  for  his  dear 
old  imperious  master,"  whom,  in  his  enthu- 


44  -JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

siasm,  he  held  to  be  the  most  truthful  and  ' 
powerful  actor  that  ever  lived.  "  Such  an 
estimate,"  remarks  Rev.  W.  R.  Alger,  in  his 
great  life  of  Edwin  Forrest,  "  by  one  of  McCul- 
lough's  talent  and  rank,  making  every  allow- 
ance for  the  personal  equation,  is  an  abundant 
offset  for  the  squeamish  purist  who  has  stig- 
matized Forrest  as  a  'coarse  ranter,'  and  the 
prejudiced  critic  who  called  him  'a  vast 
animal,  bewildered  with  a  grain  of  genius.' 
The  treatment  McCullough  received  from 
Forrest  during  his  five  years  of  constant 
service  under  him,  the  impression  he  made 
on  his  .young  coadjutor  and  the  permanent 
esteem  and  gratitude  he  secured  from  him, 
are  all  pleasant  to  contemplate." 

After  Forrest's  departure,  McCullough  re- 
mained at  Maguire's  Theatre  for  two  years, 
and  speedily  won  the  hearts  of  that  cordial 
Western  community.  It  was  flush  times  with 
the  bonanza  kings  in  1867,  and  Mr.  Ralston, 
the  banker,  offered  to  back  the  tragedian  and 
build  for  his  especial  use,  the  California 
Theatre,  whose  management  McCullough  at 
first  undertook  in  partnership  with  his  re- 
nowned confrere — Lawrence  Barrett.  This 
opened  a  most  brilliant  and  lucrative  era  in 
his  professional  career,  for  after  Mr.  Barrett's 
withdrawal  in  1870,  he  retained  the  theatre 


THE    GOLDEN     GATE  45 

five  years  longer,  making  numerous  starring 
trips  meanwhile  to  the  Eastern  and  Southern 
States,  while  leaving  the  "  California  "  in 
charge  of  his  friend  and  co-worker,  Col. 
Barton  Hill,  but  he  was  always  welcomed  on 
his  return  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm,  with 
many  touching  proofs  of  genuine  and  devoted 
affection. 

On  one  of  his  return  visits  to  the  Pacific 
coast,  he  chose  for  his  opening  performance, 
the  role  of  Spartacus,  in  Dr.  Bird's  manuscript 
play  of  "  The  Gladiator,"  which  he  had  bought 
from  the  estate  of  his  now  deceased  friend, 
Forrest,  for  $2,500.00.  Of  this  event  the 
San  Francisco  Daily  Alia  of  February  16, 
1874,  reports: 

'  The  reappearance  of  Mr.  McCullough,  the 
favorite  of  California,  after  an  absence  of 
seven  months,  was  an  incentive  which  filled 
the  California  Theatre  to  a  density  never 
before  reached.  The  upper  gallery  might 
well  have  represented  Porter's  famous  painting 
of  a  Roman  amphitheatre.  It  was  an  ovation 
of  sincere  friendship  for  the  man,  as  well  as 
admiration  for  the  actor,  the  applause  on  his 
entrance,  in  heartiness  and  earnestness,  was 
beyond  anything  within  the  recollection  of 
the  most  appreciative  and  enthusiastic  audi- 
ence that  ever  filled  a  theatre.  He  should  be 


46  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  Called  before 
the  curtain,  and  first  accepting  a  beautiful 
basket  of  flowers  from  a  sweet  little  girl  in  the 
proscenium  box,  he  returned  his  thanks  in  the 
following  speech: 

'  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  dear  friends,  I 
should  say,  for  so  I  feel  you  are,  by  the  inter- 
est you  have  shown  to  me.  I  can  never 
adequately  express  my  gratitude  to  you  for 
your  encouragement  of  every  effort  I  have 
made,  since  I  first  came  to  the  hospitable 
shores  of  California.  Greeting  me  kindly 
when  I  came  among  you  as  a  stranger, 
overlooking  my  faults,  encouraging  my  study 
of  the  standard  plays  and  commending  my 
ambitious  efforts  to  win  a  name,  I  feel  that  to 
you,  I  owe  all  the  success  which  has  attended 
my  late  tour  through  the  principal  cities  of  the 
East.  Without  the  stamp  of  your  approval, 
I  could  not  have  had  such  a  hearing  in  other 
cities. 

'  That  I  love  my  adopted  California,  and 
that  I  am  proud  of  our  noble  city,  I  believe 
will  not  be  questioned  by  any-  one  who  met 
me  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains.  But, 
even  my  strong  love  and  great  pride  were 
increased  when  I  had  opportunity  to  make 
comparisons  with  other  places  visited  in  my 
professional  capacity.  Of  the  standing  of 


THE   GOLDEN    GATE  47 

this  theatre,  I  will  not  speak,  lest  I  may  be 
suspected  of  boasting,  but  your  action  and 
its  results  are  tangible;  here  you  have  main- 
tained this  temple  devoted  to  the  drama,  and 
have  made  it  profitable  to  give  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare  and  other  standard  writers,  while 
in  New  York,  the  metropolis  of  the  United 
States,  with  its  million  of  inhabitants,  the 
only  theatre  devoted  to  the  legitimate  drama, 
has  brought  its  owner  to  bankruptcy,  and  the 
owner  a  tragedian  of  eminent  ability,  a  great 
actor,  and  the  scion  -of  a  great  actor. 

'  Can  you  wonder,  then,  that  I  feel  proud 
of  California,  proud  of  my  position  here,  and 
grateful  to  you  for  encouragement  and  sup- 
port? 

"  '  I  shall  not  tire  you  with  a  long  speech, 
after  your  patience  in  listening  to  the  play, 
but  I  felt  that  I  must  say  something  to  thank 
you,  to  thank  the  press,  to  thank  my  earnest 
personal  friends,  who  have  made  my  cause 
their  own  and  left  nothing  undone  that  could 
ensure  me  kind  treatment  wherever  I  went. 
With  these  remarks,  I  beg  to  be  allowed  to 
retire,  and  most  respectfully  bid  you,  one  and 
all,  good  night.' 

On  a  later  visit  of  the  tragedian  to  San 
Francisco,  the  A  Ita  of  March  28,  1876, 
remarks:  "  Our  California  favorite,  after 


48  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

achieving  triumphs  in  all  the  large  cities  of 
the  East,  returned  to  give  his  earlier  friends 
an  opportunity  to  see  him  in  some  of  his 
favorite  characters,  after  he  has  perfected 
them  by  repeated  representations.  He  chose 
the  character  of  the  Roman  father,  partly 
because  he  loves  it  and  partly  because  the 
Boston  public  were  charmed  into  an  ex- 
traordinary display  of  enthusiasm  over  his 
impersonation  of  Virginius,  in  that  city,  and 
he  wished  to  give  the  people  of  California  an 
opportunity  to  see  how  he  had  improved  his 
rendition  of  the  part,  by  study.  Not  a  scene 
but  shows  trace  of  finer  elaboration  and  more 
perfect  poise;  though  even  his  early  perform- 
ances were  masterly,  in  comparison  with  any 
other  artist.  The  tumultuous  applause  and 
waving  of  handkerchiefs  betokened  an  invol- 
untary tribute  to  genius,  and  the  recalls  were 
marked  by  an  extraordinary  display  of  enthu- 
siasm, stopping  little  short  of  a  positive  ova- 
tion. McCullough  never  returns  to  us  without 
having  learned  some  new  lesson;  he  gives  his 
every  part  some  new  finish.  He  has  now 
acquired  a  dignity  and  repose  of  manner  which 
give  an  added  depth  and  intensity  to  his 
expression  of  feeling.  San  Franciscans  are 
not  able  fully  to  appreciate  the  superiority  of 
McCullough 's  art  as  it  now  stands,  because 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE  49 

they  have  witnessed  the  gradual  forming 
process.  His  style  is  warm,  impulsive,  vigor- 
ous and  touches  the  heart.  He  was  the 
recipient  of  a  wreath  of  laurel  and  several 
bouquets  of  flowers." 

After  a  brief  rest  at  the  close  of  this  engage- 
ment, McCullough  emerged  from  his  tempor- 
ary retirement  to  play  in  '  Damon  and 
Pythias ' '  for  the  purpose  of  adding  increased 
lustre  to  the  season  of  his  friend,  Edwin 
Adams,  and  again  he  played  Othello  to  his 
I  ago.  On  the  occasion  of  Adams'  benefit, 
McCullough  appeared  in  '  London  Assur- 
ance," almost  every  one  in  the  cast  being 
cast  out  of  his  line.  The  Alia  of  May  28th, 
states  that  "  McCullough  and  Adams  looked 
strangely  enough  in  the  modern  drama,  and 
the  free,  swinging  gestures  of  the  classic 
school  accord  illy  with  broadcloth  and  social 
cigars,  while  Barton  Hill  as  Dolly  Spanker  was 
as  utterly  out  of  his  line  as  if  he  had  been  cast 
for  Pert." 

The  spring  of  1876  was  also  made  notable 
by  the  advent  in  San  Francisco  of  Edwin 
Booth,  whose  visit  became  especially  brilliant 
and  successful  through  McCullough 's  cordial 
generosity,  always  unfailing  in  its  expression 
to  every  artist  in  the  profession.  To  ensure 


50  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

a  triumph  for  his  brother  tragedian,  he  en- 
acted with  him  second  parts  in  "  Richelieu," 
"  Richard  III."  and  other  distinctive  plays, 
thus  achieving  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
and  lucrative  engagements  in  the  annals  of 
the  American  stage. 

For  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Barton  Hill,  his  acting 
manager  (who  played  Edgar  on  that  occasion) , 
he  gave  a  notable  performance  of  "  King 
Lear,"  upon  which  the  Alia  of  March  3,  1874, 
comments:  'In  '  King  Lear,'  McCullough 
filled  the  stage  with  the  majesty  of  his  pres- 
ence. He  seemed  every  inch  a  king.  It  has 
been  asserted  that  McCullough  does  not  suffi- 
ciently simulate  old  age  in  his  impersonation 
of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  and  that  therefore  he 
is  incapable  of  subduing  his  vigorous  nature 
to  counterfeit  the  decrepitude  of  age.  This 
was  shown  to  be  without  foundation  in  the 
performance  last  night,  and  perhaps  it  may 
serve  as  a  hint  to  some,  that  his  theory  is  that 
the  Cardinal's  infirmity  was  mainly  assumed, 
and  that  the  passionate  outbursts  are  entirely 
natural.  Certain  it  is  that  no  fault  could  be 
found  with  his  manner  of  counterfeiting  the 
age  of  King  Lear,  either  in  the  petulant 
exhibition  of  his  infirmity  in  the  first  act,  in 
the  scene  with  his  two  daughters  in  the  second 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE  51 

act,  or  the  exquisitely  tender  and  sad  scene 
with  Edgar  and  Cordelia.  The  curse  was 
delivered  with  such  an  impressiveness  that 
his  spectators  sympathized  with  the  unhappy 
woman — unnatural  daughter  as  she  was — and 
would  have  averted  the  anathema,  if  possible. " 
The  following  issue  of  this  periodical  con- 
tains the  Alta's  estimate  of  his  "  Othello  "  : 
"  McCullough's  impersonation  of  the  jealous 
Moor  is  amazingly  clear  and  powerful.  In 
the  first  two  acts,  the  confiding  love  and 
extreme  tenderness  of  Othello  is  admirably 
portrayed,  but  it  remains  for  the  succeeding 
scenes  to  witness  his  grand  display  of  jealousy 
under  the  tortures  of  I  ago.  The  struggles 
between  his  pride  and  jealousy  were  given  with 
indescribable  power  of  gesture  and  facial  dis- 
play. He.  endeavors  to  maintain  his  pride 
before  I  ago,  who  with  insinuations  against  his 
wife,  arouses  the  green-eyed  monster,  then 
throws  aside  all  reserve  and  allows  the  agony 
that  fills  him  to  have  full  sway.  The  scene 
where,  goaded  to  frenzy,  he  seizes  I  ago  by  the 
throat  and  hurls  him  to  the  ground,  demand- 
ing the  proof,  was  tremendous  in  its  sweeping 
impetuosity.  His  interview  with  Desdemona, 
when  he  charges  her  with  his  suspicions,  was 
also  impressively  natural.  The  scene  of  the 


52  JOHN   McCULLOUGH 

murder  is  awfully  real  and  terribly  effec- 
tive, adding  still  further  to  his  triumph  as 
the  greatest  tragedian  on  the  stage." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  GOLDEN  GATE. 

(Continued.) 

"  How  far  that  little  candle  throws  his  beams  ! 
.So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world." 

— Merchant  of  Venice. 

Prior  to  McCullough's  establishment  in  a 
theatre  of  his  own,  in  San  Francisco,  in  the 
interim  following  Mr.  Forrest's  departure  for 
the  East,  an  episode  is  related  by  a  near  and 
dear  friend  of  our  "genial  John" — that  charm- 
ing author,  accomplished  scholar  and  world- 
wide traveler,  Professor  Charles  Warren  Stod- 
dard,  Ph.  D.,  L.  H.  D. — which  reveals  the 
actor's  amiable  readiness  to  obliterate  his  own 
choice  and  interest  to  save  a  situation,  or 
advance  another's  good. 

He  was  playing  an  engagement  at  Magu ire's 
Theatre  as  the  support  in  leading  characters, 
of  Madame  Celeste,  a  French  actress  of  con- 
siderable note,  but  whose  knowledge  of  the 
art  of  acting  had  outlasted  the  fire  of  youth, 
and  she  failed  to  gain  the  appreciation  of  the 
California  people.  The  season  promised  to  be 
a  dismal  failure,  to  the  manager's  great  dis- 
tress, when,  at  this  juncture,  a  little  lady 

53 


54  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

appeared  upon  the  scene — Alice  Kingsbury— 
who  had  come  out  to  California,  alone  and 
unknown,  and  desired  a  position. 

McCullough  advised  the  perplexed  manager, 
in  his  dilemma,  to  give  Miss  Kingsbury  a  trial, 
and  with  his  sweet,  gracious  spirit,  volunteered 
to  play  the  part  of  Laundry  to  her  Fanchon. 
Her  success  proved  electrical;  she  captured 
by  storm,  the  entire  city,  which  bestowed  upon 
her  the  title  of  the  "Elfin  Star,"  and  for  a  long 
time  she  remained  the  idol  of  the  theatre- 
going  world.  The  press  of  that  date  an- 
nounced daily  the  '  Undeviating  Success 
of  Alice  Kingsbury,"  a  record  still  unbroken 
in  her  present  role  of  estimable  wife  and 
mother. 

With  many  actors  and  actresses,  the  gift 
of  painting  often  craves  expression  in  the 
intervals  of  their  dramatic  triumphs,  the  pencil 
or  the  brush  thus  relieving  the  arduous  duties 
of  their  profession.  An  instance  is  related 
by  Professor  Stoddard  (a  warm  friend  of  both 
McCullough  and  Miss  Kingsbury),  that  on 
one  occasion,  she  essayed  to  paint  for  Mr. 
Stoddard,  a  bunch  of  violets,  but  lingering  too 
long  to  chat  with  the  genial  tragedian,  the 
flowers  faded  and  could  no  longer  serve  as  a 
fitting  study  for  her  brush.  While  expressing 
regret  at  her  failure  to  reproduce  the  violets, 


T  HE    GOLDEN    GATE  55 

and  deciding  to  paint  a  rose-bud  instead,  Mr. 
Stoddard  courteously  deprecated  the  trouble 
this  effort  in  his  behalf  was  giving  her,  when 
McCullough's  deep  voice  and  ready  thought, 
which  so  spontaneously  found  Shakespearian 
expression,  reminded  them  that 

"The  labor  we  delight  in,  physics  pain." 

His  gracious  courtesy,  the  natural  expres- 
sion of  a  kind  heart,  always  bubbled  forth  as 
from  a  full  reservoir.  Volumes  could  be  filled 
with  instances  of  his  great  generosity  and 
nobility  of  spirit.  The  following  is  contrib- 
uted by  Miss  Carrie  Wyatt  of  San  Francisco: 

'  There  came  one  day  to  the  stage  door  of 
the  California  Theatre,  a  young  girl,  who 
tearfully  begged  to  be  allowed  to  enter  the 
corps  of  the  ballet.  She  was  being  turned" 
away,  in  a  somewhat  peremptory  manner,  by 
the  keeper  of  the  stage  door,  when  Mr.  Mc- 
Cullough  arrived  at  the  entrance.  Seeing  the 
girl's  distress,  he  inquired  the  cause  thereof. 
Not  knowing  who  he  was,  she  told  him  of  a 
sick  mother,  a  lame  little  brother,  their  rent 
due,  and  her  need  of  employment  imperative. 
Putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  McCullough 
gave  her  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece,  telling 
her  to  go  home  for  that  time,  btit  to  return 
on  the  morrow  to  the  theatre  and  she  should 
find  work.  Six  months  later,  this  same  girl, 


56  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

with  smiling  face,  indicative  of  her  prosper- 
ity, handed  .  McCullough  twenty  dollars.  He 
looked  at  her  in  amazement,  asking  what  it 
could  mean. 

'  Oh,  sir,'  she  cried,  '  have  you  forgotten 
that  you  lent  it  to  me  and  gave  me  work,  and 
now  we  are  so  happy  because  of  your  great 
kindness, '  but  he  could  not  recall  the  incident. ' ' 

His  charities  were  too  perennial  in  their 
blossoming,  to  make  one  solitary  instance 
distinctive  enough  for  his  remembrance. 

During  the  engagement  of  Harry  Montague 
at  this  theatre,  Miss  Wyatt  was  assigned  an 
important  part,  which  required  handsome 
costumes.  At  the  first  rehearsal,  McCullough 
came  to  her  and  asked:  "  Little  woman,  what 
are  you  going  to  wear?  ':  She  replied,  "  Oh, 
Miss  -  -  is  going  to  lend  me  some  of  her 
dresses."  He  smiled,  in  his  sweet,  benevolent 
way  (and  who  could  withstand  his  smile?), 
and  said:  "  Well,  we  don't  want  any  bor- 
rowed finery;  we  want  our  own.  Get  what 
you  need  and  send  a  bill  into  the  box  office  of 
$150.00,"  and  before  she  could  thank  him,  he 
had  turned  away  to  discuss  the  scenery  with 
Dion  Boucicault. 

When,  early  in  her  career,  Mary  Anderson 
visited  California,  and  her  engagement  did 
not  prove  a  success,  when,  as  she  herself  has 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE  57 

since  expressed  it,  she  was  "  losing  money 
nightly  for  this  kindest  of  friends,"  the  "  Gov- 
ernor," as  he  was  usually  called  by  his  troupe, 
suggested  giving  her  a  benefit,  offering  to  play 
Ingomar  to  her  Parthenia,  but  Miss  Anderson 
replied:  "  I  can't;  I  have  no  dress  suitable 
for  the  part,  and  I  have  no  money  with  which 
to  buy  one,"  whereupon  McCullough  wrote  an 
order  to  a  leading  dry  goods  emporium  for  the 
most  beautiful  white  china  crepe  dress  in  its 
establishment,  and,  of  course,-  the  classic  Mary 
was  a  dream  of  loveliness  on  the  night  of  her 
first  benefit. 

Another  anecdote  reveals  still  a  different 
side  of  his  noble  character,  great  in  its  hu- 
mility. At  a  rehearsal,  a  raw  recruit  from 
the  street,  one  engaged  for  the  rabble  in 
'  Julius  Caesar,"  persisted  in  shouting  in  the 
wrong  place.  The  "  Governor  "  endured  the 
annoyance  for  some  time,  and  then  turning 
on  an  unfortunate  fellow,  said  with  some 
impatience:  "Get  off  the  stage,  or  keep  your 
mouth  shut  !"  At  the  close  of  the  rehearsal 
the  real  malefactor,  who  had  performed  the 
ill-timed  shouting  act,  stepped  forward  to 
McCullough  and  said: 

"  Mr.  Brutus,  you  cussed  the  wrong  chap. 
He  uns  is  too  green  to  shout." 

The    "  Governor  "    said    "  Where  is   he?" 


58 

and  on  being  shown  where  he  stood,  this 
royal,  citizen  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  with 
his  majestic  port  and  leonine  tread,  ap- 
proached the  little  ragamuffin,  and  said 
kindly: 

"  My  boy,  I  am  sorry;  I  made  a  mistake." 
While  disaster  was  not  unknown  to  the 
great  tragedian,  for  "  the  slings  and  arrows 
of  outrageous  fortune  ' '  did  not  pass  him  by, 
but  often  made  his  sensitive  heart  a  target 
for  their  winged  barbs,  he  was  what  might 
be  called  a  lucky  man.  In  games  or  sales  of 
chance,  he  always  won  the  prize;  in  every 
raffle  his  was  the  lucky  ticket.  On  one  occa- 
sion a  lottery  was  held,  being  licensed  by  the 
State,  in  aid  of  the  Mercantile  Library  of 
San  Francisco.  Several  prizes  were  offered, 
among  them  a  grand  piano,  to  be  raffled  for, 
in  connection  with  a  performance  at  the 
California  Theatre.  McCullough  was  not 
playing  that  evening,  but  sat  as  was  often 
his  wont,  when  not  on  the  boards,  in  one  of 
the  proscenium  boxes.  A  young  man,  com- 
ing in  late  to  take  a  chance  on  the  piano, 
was  told  that  but  three  or  four  tickets  re- 
mained. Noticing  the  great  artist  sitting 
near,  the  young  man  appealed  to  him: 

"  Mr.   McCullough,   which  of  these  tickets 
shall  I  choose?" 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE  59 

Turning  to  survey  the  bits  of  pasteboard, 
and  placing  his  finger  on  one  of  them,  McCul- 
lough  said: 

'  Take  that  one,"  whereupon  the  late 
comer  thus  became  the  fortunate  winner  of 
the  prize. 

At  a  charity  concert  in  San  Francisco, 
McCullough  was  on  the  program  for  a  recita- 
tion. It  was  Bret  Harte's  "  Flynn  of  Vir- 
ginia." When  he  came  to  the  concluding 
line,  "Stranger,  don't  you  know  Flynn?" 
Edwin  Adams,  who  was  in  one  of  the  boxes, 
rising  to  his  full  height,  said  solemnly,  "  I 
don't."  McCullough,  smiling,  replied,  as  he 
bowed  himself  off  the  stage,  '  Well,  that 
doesn't  surprise  me."  The  audience  saw  the 
point  of  the  joke  and  received  it  with  great 
merriment  and  applause. 

It  was  during  his  residence  in  California 
that  an  unknown  aspirant  of  the  drama 
appealed  to  him  for  advice  and  recognition 
as  an  actress.  Realizing  her  possession  of 
dramatic  talent,  he  found  her  command  of 
the  English  language  most  imperfect.  He 
advised  her  to  go  back  to  her  home  and 
devote  an  entire  year  to  the  study  of  pro- 
nunciation and  construction.  During  all 
the  months  that  followed,  he  never  wearied  of 
her  frequent  appeals  to  him,  patiently  drilling 


60  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

and  teaching  her,  until  the  successful  debut 
of  Modjeska  was  accomplished,  for  whose 
appearance  McCullough  most  generously  relin- 
quished the  last  week  of  his  management  of 
the  California  Theatre. 

The  great  tragedian  was  a  welcome  and 
prominent  feature  in  the  social  life  of  the 
Western  metropolis  and  adored  by  every  one 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  noted  Bohemian  Club,  which 
has  included  in  its  long  catalogue  the  names 
of  so  many  brilliant  stars  in  the  literary  and 
artistic  firmament.  He  was  perhaps  present 
on  that  occasion  when  the  grand  poet  of  the 
Sierras  was  being  teased  by  some  of  the 
members  of  the  Club  for  his  belief  in  immor- 
tality, and  was  even  challenged  to  prove  it. 
Whereupon,  raising  himself  to  his  full  heroic 
stature,  and  smiting  his  breast  with  his 
clenched  hand,  Miller  proudly  exclaimed: 

"  Gentlemen,  my  soul  is  not  in  a  police 
court.  It  disdains  to  prove  its  immortality. 
I  cannot  prove  to  you  the  sun  will  rise  to- 
morrow morning.  I  know  it  will." 

To  many  a  listener  on  that  day,  as  to  our 
noble  friend,  the  sun  of  proven  immortality 
has  since  grandly  arisen. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  OTHER  FIELDS. 

"  All  the  world's  a  stage 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players: 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances." 

— As  You  Like  It. 

But  times  changed  on  the  Pacific  coast. 
In  1875,  Mr.  Ralston  committed  suicide, 
other  friends  died,  misfortunes  overtook  the 
earnest  manager,  and  after  ten  years  of  bril- 
liant record,  the  theatre  passed  from  McCul- 
lough's  hands  and  he  again  entered  upon  his 
starring  tours  through  the  large  cities  of  the 
East,  where  he  had  already  won  an  enviable 
renown,  displaying  each  year  a  riper  manli- 
ness in  his  art,  as  in  his  personality,  while  his 
performances  were  marked  by  an  ever  in- 
creasing brilliancy,  grace  and  power,  an 
advance  attained  by  ceaseless  effort,  by  most 
laborious  and  careful  toil. 

A  friend  has  said:  '  The  man  who,  in  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  by  reason  of  individual 
effort  and  talent  alone,  can  take  such  rapid 
strides  unaided,  deserves  all  he  can  receive  of 


61 


62  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

praise."  John  McCullough  certainly  knew 
no  royal  road  to  fame. 

At  this  time,  his  imitation  of  Forrest  was 
entirely  overcome.  He  never  achieved  his 
true  greatness  until  he  had  shaken  off  the 
classic  influence  of  his  great  friend  and  pre- 
ceptor, had  outgrown  the  influence  thus 
imbibed  by  daily  contact.  He  did  not  prove 
his  sterling  metal  until  his  true  inner  nature 
began  to  express  itself,  and  his  interior  con- 
ceptions of  human  nature.  While  carefully 
observing  all  criticism,  and  perhaps  no  actor 
ever  received  intelligent  criticism  more  kindly, 
was  more  eager  to  profit  by  it,  he  now  began 
to  work  from  his  higher  ideals  and  to  express 
his  own  innate  powers.  Like  a  true  artist, 
he  constantly  strove  for  perfection,  and  when 
his  acting  showed  the  most  fire  and  vehem- 
ence, even  sublimity,  there  was  always  a  sug- 
gestion of  still  greater  power  held  in  reserve, 
which  opulence  of  force  and  genius  transcends 
the  plane  of  imitation. 

He  was  a  man  of  great  force  of  character 
or  he  could  not  so  thrillingly  have  portrayed 
force;  a  man  of  a  deeply  passionate  nature, 
or  he  could  not  so  masterfully  have  delin- 
eated passion;  of  stanchest  honor,  or  he  could 
not  so  successfully  have  depicted  his  horror 
of  deceit  and  intrigue,  while  the  unvarying 


IN    OTHER    FIELDS  63 

sweetness  of  his  guileless  heart  lent  tender- 
ness to  his  every  artistic  conception.  He  had 
great  moral  emotions,  an  intense  love  of 
nature,  in  short,  every  quality  which  endowed 
him  with  the  possibilities  of  a  great  actor. 

It  were  easy  to  believe  that  other  and  earlier 
experiences  of  the  soul  had  enriched  his 
powers,  that,  unconsciously  to  himself,  he 
possessed  an  intuitive  heredity.  One  might 
readily  conceive  that  he  had  once  known  the 
life  of  a  Roman,  he  seemed  so  born  to  the 
purple.  No  one  ever  wore  a  toga  so  regally, 
so  naturally.  In  physique,  bearing,  in  stat- 
uesque poise,  balanced  by  an  unfailing  mod- 
esty and  humility  of  temperament,  in  grand- 
eur of  head  and  face,  with  a  voice  that  was 
marvellously  rich,  melodious  and  vibrant,  a 
munificent  Nature  had  seemingly  lavished  all 
her  treasures  on  this  favorite  son,  which  his 
own  true  heart  supplemented  by  loyalty, 
fidelity  and  industry. 

Yet  he  had  great  difficulties  to  overcome, 
among  these,  people's  stereotyped  ideas  of 
what  Lears  and  Hamlets  ought  to  be,  which 
conception  he  could  not  blindly  follow;  then 
there  was  at  first  a  feeling  of  resentment  in 
the  public  mind,  that  McCullough  should 
undertake  the  parts  that  Forrest  had  made 


64  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

so  entirely  his  own,  but  the  earnest  artist 
forged  his  way  onward,  evolving  the  basic 
conceptions  of  his  sold,  creating  from  his  own 
ideality  the  characters  he  represented.  Thus 
he  could  give  the  finest  renditions  of  genius 
because  it  existed  within  him,  and  found  its 
fitting  outlet  of  expression. 

It  were  easy  to  tell  what  McCullough  did, 
but  who  can  paint  a  soul,  whose  pristine 
light  inspired  his  external  consciousness  and 
his  action?  It  was  this  indefinable  power, 
this  spiritual  quality  that  appealed  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers,  lifted  them  above  the 
sensuous  plane .  and  thrilled  them  as  few 
artists  ever  did.  For  his  dramatization  was 
subjective.  Charles  Dickens  wrote  what  he 
saw,  and  his  dramatic  creations  were  objec- 
tive. McCullough 's  art  lay  in  expressing  out 
of  himself,  his  own  being,  as  true  art  is  ever 
thus  evolved;  and  that  inner  self  was  brimful 
of  all  that  was  beautiful  and  beneficent  in  the 
ideal,  and  in  its  practilization.  Dishonor  in 
him  could  find  no  resting  place. 

His  first  appearance  as  a  star  had  been 
made  at  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  in  the  Olympic 
Theatre  (of  which  Spalding  and  Pope  were 
then  managers),  on  September  29,  1873.  Com- 
ing thither  from  California,  he  was  "  con- 


IN    OTHER    FIELDS  65 

signed  "  like  some  precious  package,  by  Mr. 
Ralston,  to  Mr.  William  H.  Thompson,  of 
the  Boatmen's  Bank,  and  Mr.  Girard  B.  Allen, 
with  this  recommendation,  "  You  can  stake 
your  bottom  dollar  on  this  fellow." 

Great  interest  was  felt  in  his  Western  home 
in  relation  to  his  reception  and  success  in  St. 
Louis,  and  several  telegrams  were  exchanged 
in  regard  to  his  opening  performance.  Among 
the  rest  were  these.  The  first  is  from  Mayor 
Brown  to  Mr.  W.  S.  Ralston: 

"  McCullough's  opening  night  was  a  perfect 
ovation.  A  most  intelligent  and  appreciative 
house  greeted  him  with  showers  of  applause." 

To  this  welcome  message,  Ralston  sent  the 
following  reply: 

"  Please  accept  the  merited  thanks  of  our 
best  people  for  yourself  and  other  kind  friends 
who  so  nobly  received  and  aided  Mr.  McCul- 
lough,  the  representative  and  gentlemanly  tra- 
gedian of  California,  of  whom  all  feel  proud." 

The  St.  Louis  Republican  of  October  3rd 
pays  this  tribute:  '  Such  a  hard  week's  work 
is  seldom  undertaken  by  manager  or  star  and 
a  more  legitimate  series  of  performances  was 
never  afforded  to  the  public,  with  the  bill 
changed  every  night  and  no  performance 
repeated.  '  Coriolanus,'  '  Othello,'  'Julius 
Caesar,'  '  Richelieu,'  'Hamlet,'  '  Richard 


66  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

III.,'  six  great  plays,  whose  impersonation 
must  have  been  exceedingly  wearing. 

"  Perhaps  at  first  our  people  did  not  appre- 
ciate the  esteem  in  which  McCullough  is  held 
in  California.  We  know  him  now  ourselves 
and  can  better  realize  the  position  which  he 
holds  at  home.  He  has  already  made  a  name 
here,  has  established  himself  as  a  St.  Louis 
favorite,  and  that  is  something  to  accomplish 
in  just  six  performances." 

The  sincere  admiration  which  he  had  won 
culminated  in  a  flattering  testimonial  of  which 
he  was  made  the  recipient  by  many  promi- 
nent citizens  of  the  city,  as  evidenced  by  the 
following  correspondence: 

St.  Louis,  October  1,  1873. 
John  McCullough,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir:  Deeply  impressed  by  the  original- 
ity and  force  of  your  renditions  in  the  most  ele- 
vated characters,  and  desiring  to  express  our 
admiration  of  your  genius  in  a  public  and 
emphatic  form,  we  respectfully  ask  you,  on 
behalf  of  the  citizens  generally,  to  designate 
an  evening  when  a  benefit  performance  can 
take  place  and  at  which  we  can  collectively 
testify  our  esteem  and  respect. 

We  desire  to  honor  you,  sir,  not  merely 
because  Nature  has  gifted  you  with  a  rich 
and  singular  genius,  but  because  you  have 


IN    OTHER    FIELDS 


67 


devoted  that  genius  to  the  noblest  purposes 
of  the  stage.  You  have  had  the  courage  to 
grasp  the  most  massive  models  in  the  great 
Shakespearian  dramas,  and  by  the  patient 
study  of  their  requirements  and  the  might 
and  enthusiasm  of  your  genius,  you  have 
accomplished  a  success  as  memorable  as 
unprecedented. 

A  great  actor  deserves  the  respect  of  the 
world  and  at  the  commencement  of  your 
career,  we  offer  you  our  best  wishes  and  sin- 
cerest  admiration. 


Joseph  Brown 
Henry  Overstolz 
George  Knapp 
John  Knapp 
James  O.  Broadhead 
Theodore  Lavelle 
D.  B.  Armstrong 
Oliver  B.  Folley 
James  C.  Cabot 
George  W.  Fishbach 
Barton  Abie 
Charles  P.  Warner 
H.  J.  McKellops 
Chester  H.  Krum 
R.  M.  Scruggs 
Frederick  Cromwell 
Montrose  A.  Pullen 
John 


William  Hyde 
John  Whittaker 
Daniel  G.  Taylor 
John  G.  Prather 
Geo.  Frank  Gonley 
Charles    P.    Johnson 
Isaac  Cook 
Philip  C.  Taylor 
W.  C.  Kennett 
Samuel  Pepper 
D.  H.  McAdam 
C.  Frank  Lubke 
Girard  B.  Allen 
Jo  G.  Chouteau 
J.  C.  Normile 
Richard  L.  Compton 

.     Adolph  Busch 

Hodnett 


68  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Southern  Hotel, 
St.  Louis,  October  2,  1873. 
Messrs  Joseph  Brown,  Chas.  P.  Johnson,  Isaac 
Cook,  George  Knapp,   Henry  Overstolz, 
O.  B.  Folley,  Girard  B.  Allen,  and  others. 
Gentlemen: 

I  am  as  much  surprised  as  gratified  by  your 
kind  expressions  of  good  will.  As  an  humble 
student  of  the  great  masters  in  Art,  I  feel 
proud  to  have  merited  this  mark  of  attention 
and  appreciation  at  your  hands.  Your  letter 
almost  persuades  me  that  I  shall  succeed  in 
the  high  walk  of  the  drama  I  have  chosen, 
and  in  any  case,  I  shall  ever  remember  with 
deep  gratitude  the  cordial  applause  and  warm 
encouragement  extended  to  me  by  the  people 
of  St.  Louis  at  this  early  stage  of  my  career. 
I  hope  to  come  back  to  you  at  some  future 
day  still  more  worthy  of  your  approbation. 
I  would  name  Friday  evening,  October  3rd, 
for  the  "  benefit  performance  "  which  you 
propose.  The  play  will  be  "  Hamlet." 

Again  assuring  you  of  my  heartfelt  grati- 
tude, 

I  am  yours  respectfully, 

John  McCullough. 

The-  Republican  reports  this  performance 
as  "a  very  grand  affair  in  every  particular. 
There  was  a  very  large  and  brilliant  assem- 
blage, composed  of  our  first  citizens  and  their 
families,  which  left  no  available  inch  of  space  in 


IN    OTHER    FIELDS  69 

the  house.  It  constituted  an  ovation  of  which 
McCullough  can  long  be  proud.  Called  out 
repeatedly,  he  received  plentiful  tributes  of 
flowers,  baskets  of  them,  and  more  bouquets 
than  he  could  hold,  and  he  also  made  a  short 
speech,  which  was  well  received." 

His  second  visit  to  St.  Louis  was  made  in 
March,  1874,  when  the  Republican  of  March 
19th  notices  McCullough 's  rendition  of  "  Ham- 
let "  as  follows: 

'  We  have  a  stronger  personal  interest  in 
McCullough 's  Hamlet  than  in  Booth's,  though 
it  may  lack  some  points  of  finish.  It  is  a 
more  live  man,  one  therefore  decidedly  more 
heroic.  It  is  healthy,  symmetric,  surpassingly 
sympathetic,  and  hints  at  a  power  of  expres- 
sion yet  undeveloped,  and  will  gradually  win 
audiences  to  its  purpose.  McCullough 's  Ham- 
let is  his  own  work,  notwithstanding  the  tra- 
ditions and  a  certain  classic  model,  which  has 
become  a  fixture  in  the  gallery  of  dramatic 
figures.  He  does  not  violently  disturb  the 
traditions,  but  honestly  construes  them  for 
himself.  Neither  does  he  demolish  in  icono- 
clastic style.  But  he  reverently  takes  it  out 
of  the  shadows  and  dust  which  have  enveloped 
it  and  places  it  in  a  more  healthful  and  a 
stronger  light. 


70  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

"  His  Hamlet  is  a  flesh  and  blood  man,  and 
not  a  philosophic  abstraction;  his  Hamlet  has 
his  five  senses  and  his  perfect  mental  poise, 
his  normal  affection,  his  sound  philosophy 
and  his  vigorous  manhood.  He  places  himself 
in  a  strong  and  no  ambiguous  light.  Noth- 
ing in  his  nature  is  misty  or  obscure,  and  he 
behaves  himself  like  almost  any  young  man 
of  twenty-eight,  in  his  surroundings,  would  do. 
He  really  loves  Ophelia  and  meant  to  do 
honestly  by  her,  a  trait  of  character  which  is 
often  blurred  in  treatment,  or  left  entirely 
in  the  dark.  His  performance  of  Hamlet  was 
a  very  fine  and  full  success  in  conception  and 
delineation." 

Again,  on  March  20th,  it  is  recorded: 
"  McCullough's  models  are  all  the  result  of 
his  own  study.  He  has  reached  them  by  a 
process  of  gradual  development,  and  a  true 
understanding  of  his  style  and  treatment 
unfolds  itself  to  the  auditor  in  the  same 
manner.  That  McCullough  invites  and  bears 
study  is  evidence  of  his  originality.  While 
he  moves  within  the  prescribed  limits  of  art 
in  everything  he  does,  his  enthusiasm  gives  an 
impulsive  dash  to  his  manner,  which  is  sure 
to  catch  and  carry  the  sympathy  of  his 
audience. 


IN    OTHER    FIELDS  71 

"  He  often  produces  those  electric  effects 
which  can  only  be  obtained  by  the  power  of 
striking  fire  in  a  thousand  hearts  at  the  same 
moment,  responsive  to  the  spark  which  flashes 
in  his  own.  An  actor  cannot  always  do  this 
with  the  same  words,  in  the  same  situation, 
but  the  subtle  power  to  do  it  is  the  genius 
of  art.  McCullough  often  reaches  the  highest 
triumph  in  the  actor's  art." 

From  St.  Louis,  the  tragedian  journeyed 
to  Cincinnati,  New  York,  to  New  Orleans  and 
to  Washington,  where  the  next  year,  he  played 
a  notable  engagement,  although  he  had 
hitherto  appeared  there  many  times,  in  con- 
nection with  Forrest.  But  now,  in  his  forty- 
second  year,  he  stood  alone,  and  stormed  the 
doors  of  Fame  with  stalwart,  valiant  blows. 
In  a  two-weeks'  visit  in  the  Capital  City, 
beginning  November  29,  1875,  he  achieved  a 
great  success,  appearing  in  a  wide  repertoire  of 
characters,  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  Shy  lock  (fol- 
lowed by  Petruchio  in  "  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew  "),  Othello,  Richelieu,  Spartacus,  Jack 
Cade,  Damon,  Virginius  and  Metamora. 

The  Washington  Chronicle  of  above  date 
says:  '  There  is  no  other  living  tragedian  in 
the  country,  since  the  death  of  Forrest,  who 
has  taken  the  hold  upon  the  public  and  secured 


72  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

their  esteem  and  affection,  as  has  this  young 
and  careful  sttident  of  dramatic  art.  In  all 
the  characters  he  undertakes  he  differs  from 
the  majority  of  our  great  actors,  in  being  an 
original  and  not  an  imitation;  and  in  this  fact 
lies  his  greatness.  His  acting  last  evening  in 
Macbeth  was  as  usual,  most  powerful.  Free 
from  rant,  his  elocution  was  easy  and  perfect 
and  his  delivery  graceful  and  appropriate. 
McCullough  is  natural,  and  being  so,  is  and 
ever  will  be  successful  in  whatever  he  under- 
takes. His  action  possesses  the  great  advan- 
tage of  rising  in  energy,  with  the  interest  of  the 
play,  and  when  required,  he  pours  forth  a 
torrent  of  pent-up  passion,  with  a  force  and 
power  and  at  the  same  time  a  refinement 
which  thrills  and  delights  his  auditors  and 
elicits  enthusiastic  evidences  of  their  appre- 
ciation." 

In  issue  of  December  2,  the  critic  writes: 
"  If,  when  McCvillough  played  OthMo  as  a 
novice,  any  one  who  witnessed  the  perform- 
ance and  saw  that  he  was  destined  to  rise,  had 
been  told  then  that  his  Othello  would  one  day 
rival  that  of  Forrest,  he  would  have  smiled 
incredulously.  Fifteen  years  have  passed  and 
the  most  conservative  critics  to-day  will  not 
hesitate  to  give  him  the  praise  which  he 


IN   OTHER    FIELDS  73 

deserves  so  well,  praise  which  he  has  earned 
by  years  of  hard  and  conscientious  study, 
that  has  placed  him  in  the  front  rank  with 
the  greatest  histrionic  artists  of  the  day." 

Again,  on  December  4:  "As  Richelieu, 
McCullough  is  without  a  peer,  nay,  without 
an  equal  on  the  world's  stage.  In  watching 
his  grand  portraiture  of  the  mighty  Cardinal 
we  lose  all  identity  and  become  participants 
with  him,  his  foes  and  his  friends.  Such  is 
the  power  this  truly  great  tragedian  exercises 
over  his  audience.  To  compare  him  in  this 
role  with  any  of  his  contemporaries  were 
worse  than  useless,  his  superiority  is  too  self- 
evident.  McCullough  has  presented  us  with 
an  ideal  which  will  outlive  them  and  us,  which 
will  serve  in  the  future,  as  it  already  does  in 
the  present,  as  a  model  for  those  who  attempt 
its  enactment." 

By  special  request,  this  masterful  perform- 
ance was  repeated  December  11,  and  was 
attended  by  President  Grant  and  several 
members  of  his  Cabinet,  a  number  of  Senators 
and  Representatives  being  also  present  with 
their  ladies. 

It  is  of  interest  in  this  connection  to  recall 
that  on  an  earlier  visit  to  Washington,  as  the 
support  of  Forrest,  playing  Edgar  to  the  older 


74  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

artist's  Lear,  President  Lincoln  was  present, 
and  in  expressing  his  enjoyment  of  the  play, 
especially  mentioned  ' '  how  much  he  liked 
Edgar." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

McCULLOUGH  IN  BOSTON. 

"  And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts." 

—  As  You  Like  It. 

Boston  was  very  prompt  at  an  early  day  to 
recognize  the  surpassing  genius  of  the  great 
tragedian,  and  to  adopt  him  as  an  esteemed 
favorite  and  friend.  And  although  in  the 
comparatively  few  years  which  have  elapsed 
since  his  transition,  most  of  his  nearest  friends 
have  followed  him  to  the  Land  of  Light  (as  if 
the  magnetism  of  his  love  drew  them  thither), 
there  are  multitudes  to-day,  even  those  who 
were  children  when  privileged  to  witness  his 
great  impersonations,  whose  faces  light  up 
with  affectionate  remembrance,  and  whose 
eyes  flash  with  the  old  delight  he  afforded 
them,  at  the  mention  of  his  name. 

On  February  1,  187-6,  he  began  an  engage- 
ment at  the  Boston  Theatre.  The  Daily 
Globe  of  that  date  speaks  of  his  conception  of 
the  role  of  Spartacus  as  "powerful,  sympa- 
thetic and  consistent,  never  overstepping  the 
many  temptations  to  extravagance,  while  in 
his  fine  physique  as  well  as  his  dignified  and 
graceful  action,  McCullough  is  the  ideal  por- 

75 


76  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

trait  of  the  Gladiator.  His  facial  expres- 
sions alone  are  worthy  of  the  closest  study. 
The  Thracian  hero  becomes  a  living  person- 
ality. ' ' 

Of  the  rather  gruesome  old  drama  of  Jack 
Cade,  the  rebellious  Kentish  bondsman,  it  was 
said:  "  McCullough  won  his  highest  triumphs 
in  his  exhibition  of  his  power  to  depict  the 
loftiest  passions  in  a  quiet,  dignified  intensity, 
rather  than  in  noise  and  rant;  and  on  his  deep- 
toned,  sonorous  voice  depends  a  large  part  of 
the  general  effect  of  his  impersonations." 

The  Advertiser  of  February  8  alludes  to  his 
Richelieu  thus:  "We  have  certainly  never 
heard  any  other  artist  give  with  equal  judg- 
ment or  effect  the  words,  '  To  thy  knees  and 
crawl  for  pardon,'  a  thrilling  low- voiced  in- 
tensity being  substituted  for  the  usual  yell, 
which  must  often  have  struck  every  reflecting 
auditor  as  both  unimpressive  and  prepos- 
terous." 

Again  on  February  11,  Othello  is  referred 
to:  "  He  makes  his  love  for  his  wife  an  all-ab- 
sorbing, all-controlling  principle,  so  that  from 
the  very  rage  of  his  jealousy,  he  constantly 
lapses  into  passions  of  tenderness,  and  de- 
velops the  same  idea  most  justly  in  the  whole 
of  the  last  scene;  the  auditor  is  made  to  feel 
that  it  is  a  'sacrifice,'  not  a  'murder.'  The 


McCULLOUGH   IN   BOSTON  77 

great  oration  to  the  senate  of  Venice  was 
delivered  with  picturesque  simplicity  and  had 
the  underlying  vitality  which  is  communicated 
only  from  a  strong  character  in  the  actor. 
His  costumes  were  superbly  Oriental  in 
color  and  texture." 

On  the  opening  night  of  this  engagement, 
he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  and  inexplicable 
hoarseness,  perhaps  occasioned  by  the  gentb 
amenities  of  the  Boston  climate  in  February, 
as  it  was  never  repeated,  which  condition 
caused  him  to  step  to  the  front  of  the  stage 
and  in  a  few  words,  quite  touching  in  their 
manly  sincerity,  express  his  surprise  and 
pain  at  his  unexpected  mishap,  for  which  he 
"could  almost  weep  with  vexation,  although 
it  was  likely  to  depart  as  quickly  and 
strangely  as  it  came,"  and  he  craved  the 
indulgence  of  the  audience. 

To  this  temporary  embarrassment  he  al- 
luded on  the  occasion  of  his  benefit,  February 
11,  1876,  in  a  pleasant  little  address,  although 
he  said  he  was  never  much  of  a  speech-maker 
and  never  regretted  the  fact  more  than  at  the 
present  moment.  He  thanked  the  people  of 
Boston  for  their  kindness  and  good  will. 
He  had  tried  his  best  to  fail  on  Monday  night, 
but  they  would  not  allow  it.  He  thanked 
the  press  especially  for  its  kindness  after 


78  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

that  lamentable  attempt,  and  he  never  should 
forget  it,  however  the  papers  might  abuse 
him  in  the  future. 

February  of  the  following  year  found  him 
again  in  Boston,  at  the  Museum,  enacting 
on  the  6th,  Damon  to  Mr.  Barren's  Pythias. 
Of  this  performance,  the  Globe  of  current 
date  remarks:  "This  powerful  actor  was  at 
his  best.  The  anguish  of  parting  with  wife 
and  child  and  the  almost  maniacal  joy  of 
finding  Pythias  alive,  though  at  the  scaffold's 
foot,  was  presented  as  only  a  master  of  great 
acting  could  embody  those  emotions.  The 
actor  was  in  superb  voice  and  his  deep  rich 
tones  made  even  the  cumbrously  worded 
passages  of  the  play,  interesting  and  im- 
pressive." 

Of  Kotzebue's  lugubrious  play  of  "The 
Stranger,"  the  Globe  of  February  14  says: 
'Though  ridiculed  for  its  pompous  language 
and  absurd  incidents,  it  still  holds  a  place 
in  the  repertoire  of  tragedies.  McCullough 
makes  that  utterly  impossible  being,  the 
Stranger,  as  nearly  like  a.  man  as  possible, 
and  the  rich  tones  of  his  superb  voice  keep 
even  the  absurd  speeches  and  soliloquies 
that  fall  to  his  lot,  from  sounding  as  tame  as 
they  are." 

Of   his    Hamlet,   it   is   declared   that   Me- 


McCULLOUGH   IN    BOSTON  79 

Cullough  makes  the  role  of  the  royal  Dane 
' '  a  much  more  natural  being  than  most  of 
the  artists — Forrest,  Booth,  Fechter,  Daven- 
port or  Barrett — who  have  assayed  the  role, 
and  this  is  great  praise.  There  is  nothing 
of  the  excess  of  refinement  that  sacrifices 
the  character  to  the  actor's  idea  of  the  meaning 
of  the  poet's  words.  McCullough's  reading 
was  delightfully  fresh  and  unconventual,  and 
Hamlet,  whether  feigning  to  be  mad,  or  plot- 
ting for  the  conviction  of  the  King,  is  pre- 
sented as  a  man  whose  warm  heart  feelings 
cannot  always  be  kept  from  expression  by 
morbid  emotion  or  the  indecision  of  his  nature. 
These  are  special  excellencies  which  should 
be  accredited  to  McCullough's  genius  alone." 
Of  his  Richelieu,  the  Advertiser  of  February 
7,  1877,  adds  to  its  encomium  of  the  previous 
year  thus:  "  It  is  delightfully  artistic  and 
satisfying,  a  thoughtful  study  of  a  picturesque 
part.  It  is  artistic  in  its  finish  and  its  fine 
proportions  are  satisfying  to  the  highest 
demands  of  the  best  taste.  But  one  Richelieu 
which  we.  know — that  of  Booth — is  better 
than  this,  and  that  is  inferior  to  this  in  several 
particulars,  none  of  the  others  which  we  have 
seen — and  there  are  many  of  them — are  much 
more  than  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
McCullough's.  In  concept,  this  artist's  per- 


80  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

formance  is  strong,  clear  and  original,  not 
meaning  by  'original,'  entirely  novel,  but 
fresh  and  rich  in  new  combinations.  It  is 
self -consistent  too,  seemed  in  this  respect 
like  a  piece  of  veritable  life,  not  like  a  creation 
or  a  study.  The  leading  characteristic  of 
McCullough's  Richelieu,  as  distinguished  from 
all  others,  is  its  greater .  humor  and  good 
nature.  These  qualities  are  displayed  in  such 
a  way  as  to  make  the  part  less  remote,  more 
human  and  less  conventional  than  we  have 
ever  seen  it,  but  they  do  not  diminish  its  vast 
vitality  or  eclipse  its  splendid  brilliancy  in 
design  and  deed.  The  rich,  many- toned  voice 
is  welcome  to  the  ear  and  fits  itself  beautifully 
to  the  nice  shades  of  thought  in  the  text." 

Again  in  February,  1878,  McCullough  is 
warmly  welcomed  to  the  Hub,  and  was  enter- 
tained on  the  fifth  by  the  Ace  of  Clubs,  in  a 
dinner  at  the  Parker  House.  At  this  time 
he  gave,  in  the  Boston  Theatre,  a  spectacular 
production  of  '  Coriolanus,"  which,  as  a 
great  pageant,  few  productions  have  ever 
equalled. 

From  the  Globe  again  we  quote:  "  It  is  a 
series  of  isolated  tableaux  or  scenes  in  the  life 
of  Coriolanus,  rather  than  a  connected  and 
consecutive  drama.  But  the  nobility  of  the 
central  figure,  the  grand  and  lofty  sentiments 


McCULLOUGH   IN   BOSTON  81 

of  the  text  and  the  opportunity  for  pomp  and 
pageant  which  it  gives,  make  any  adequate 
production  of  the  tragedy  a  notable  event. 
The  character  of  Caius  Marcius  Coriolanus 
is  one  of  the  noblest  in  the  range  of  tragedy, 
and  certainly  could  not  have  more  fitting 
representative  than  Mr.  McCullough.  In  ap- 
pearance he  realizes  the  rugged  grandeur  of 
the  personality — the  noblest  Roman  of  them 
all — his  massive  head  and  face,  his  stalwart 
and  manly  form,  clad  in  the  classic  robes,  his 
rich,  powerful  voice  and  broad,  grand  style 
of  acting,  all  pre-eminently  fit  him  for  the 
personation  of  the  role,  which  won  for  him  as 
honest  and  earnest  plaudits  as  ever  rang 
through  the  auditorium.  McCullough  greatly 
improves  from  year  to  year." 

Of  this  notable  performance,  that  discrimi- 
nating critic,  Mr.  Henry  A.  Clapp,  also  notes 
in  the  Advertiser  of  February  12,  1878: 
'  More  than  fourteen  years  have  elapsed 
since  '  Coriolanus'  was  acted  in  Boston.  In 
1863  the  part  of  Caius  Marcius  was  taken  here 
by  Forrest,  and  last  evening  it  was  assumed 
by  one  who  in  many  noble  histrionic  parts 
certainly  equals  Mr.  Forrest,  as  in  taste  and 
moderation  he  surpasses  him.  The  tragedy 
bears  the  very  air  of  Rome,  the  mighty  per- 
sonality of  Caius  Marcius  so  fills  each  act  and 


82  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

scene  that  there  is  little  need  and  indeed  little 
room  for  aught  else,  while  the  hostilities 
between  the  orders  patrician  and  plebeian  are 
made  so  real  that  as  one  looks  and  listens,  the 
strife  of  modern  wars  and  politics  seems  faint 
and  unbelievable  beside  them.  McCullough 
looks  and  moves  almost  an  ideal  Roman  of 
the  ancient  type,  with  a  gait  and  bearing  of 
one  belonging  to  a  race  of  conquerors.  His 
Cams  Marcius  has  the  magnificent  and  ample 
dignity  of  one  born  to  wear  the  patrician  toga. 
His  pride  is  almost  passionate  in  its  intensity, 
but  this  trait  also  is  perfectly  simple,  is  free 
from  the  least  touch  of  self  distrust;  he  has 
the  negative  virtue  of  modesty  and  loves  no 
praise  but  that  of  his  mother.  To  these 
qualities  must  be  added  his  stern  incorrupt- 
ibility, his  domestic  purity,  his  lofty  courage 
and  truth,  and  his  unflinching  loyalty  to  his 
convictions.  And  the  picture  remains  incom- 
plete if  we  omit  to  name  a  violence  of  temper 
so  extreme,  that  under  its  gusts  of  passion, 
every  other  power  and  faculty  of  his  nature 
is  swayed  like  a  reed  in  the  wind.  McCul- 
lough presents  all  this,  and  more  than  all  this, 
with  exceptional  force,  and,  as  we  have  said, 
with  rare  directness  and  simplicity.  His 
assumption  seems  a  creation,  not  a  composi- 
tion." 


CORIOLANUS 


McCULLOUGH   IN   BOSTON  83 

In  his  rendition  of  this  great  part,  McCul- 
lough  followed  and  defended  the  perhaps 
indefensible  pronunciation  which  Forrest 
always  used,  of  accenting  Coriolanus  on  the 
second  syllable,  although  those  two  short 
vowels,  "oi,"  when  coming  together,  Shake- 
speare ordinarily  used  as  one  syllable,  so  far 
as  metrical  quantity  is  concerned,  as  likewise 
the  lines  in  this  drama  are  thus  correctly 
scanned: 

"  In  honor  follows  Coriolanus 
Welcome  to  Rome,  renowned  Coriolanus." 

Among  other  notable  •  product  ions  of  these 
engagements  in  Boston  (to  honor  which 
excursion  trains  were  run  from  Worcester, 
Lowell  and  other  suburban  localities)  the 
Advertiser  records,  January  14,  1879,  "Sheri- 
dan's tragic  play  of  'Pizarro,  or  the  Spaniards 
in  Peru, '  was  presented  with  new  scenery  and 
appointments,  brilliant  costumes,  delightful 
music  and  over  200  auxiliaries  employed, 
with  full  male  and  female  choruses.  Mc- 
Cullough  makes  the  part  of  Rolla  interesting 
and  imposing.  He  shows  the  noble  sustained 
dignity  and  vigor  which  are  generally  marked 
features  of  his  work,  which  the  more  bois- 
terous declamation  of  the  part  is  on  the  whole 
well  suited  to.  In  the  grand  passages,  his 
simplicity  and  sweetness— 'sweetness'  is  the 


84  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

only  word — are  beautiful,  not  having  re- 
motest kinship  with  pretense  or  affection. 
It  is  a  pretty  good  education  in  the  principles 
of  acting  to  hear  McCullough  reply  to  Alonzo's 
fervent  question,  'My  friend,  my  benefactor, 
how  can  our  lives  repay  the  obligations  which 
we  owe  thee?'  '  Pass  them  in  peace  and 
blessing.  Let  Rolla  witness  it,  he  is  over- 
paid.'" 

The  Globe  also  adds  this  tribute:  "In 
'Pizarro,'  McCullough  has  no  rival  in  this 
country.  He  stands  alone  upon  a  prominence 
that  his  genius  and  his  labor  have  erected. 
It  is  not  fulsome  praise  or  flattery  to  call 
McCullough  the  American  actor;  it  is  simply 
his  due.  That  the  character  of  Rolla  was 
played  in  a  most  artistic  manner  would  be 
useless  to  assert,  after  mentioning  the  name 
of  the  actor.  Every  line  and  every  word  was 
given  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  all  the  delicate 
shading  which  the  human  voice  can  give  to 
words,  was  brought  out  strongly,  not  one  tone 
too  high,  not  one  too  low,  but  each  finely 
modulated  till  they  struck  just  the  chord  in 
the  hearer's  heart  which  the  actor  intended 
they  should,  and  wove  around  an  uninterest- 
ing play,  the  sympathy  and  emotion  which 
bespeak  the  actor's  art." 

Again  on  January  24  the  same  periodical 


McCULLOUGH   IN  -BOSTON  85 

accords  a  similar  commendation  of  his  Brutus: 
"The  part  is  one  which  is  unusually  well  fitted 
to  McCullough's  peculiar  qualification  as  an 
actor.  The  rugged  quality  of  the  hero,  his 
capacity  for  self-control,  his  patient  en- 
durance of  insults  and  contumely  and  his 
change  from  the  insane  talk  of  the  fool  to  the 
impassioned  speech  and  resolute  action  of 
the  man  and  patriot,  formed  an  occasion 
for  fine  acting  for  which  McCullough  showed 
himself  entirely  adequate.  When  Brutus  first 
appears,  it  would  hardly  be  supposed  that  he 
was  wearing  a  mask  of  folly,  which  could  be 
torn  off  at  will,  but  when  he  is  left  alone  it 
drops  from  him  like  a  toy  face,  and  his  earnest- 
ness is  at  once  apparent.  In  his  depicting 
of  the  transformation,  McCullough  showed 
the  highest  art,  but  when  he  appears  before 
the  husband  and  father  of  Lucretia,  just  as 
they  are  mourning  for  her  outrage  and  un- 
timely death,  and  appeals  to  them  to  revenge 
their  own  wrongs  and  those  of  the  Roman 
people,  he  rises  to  a  whirlwind  of  passion,  which 
fairly  carried  his  audience  with  him.  It  is  in 
trie  last  Act  however,  where  he  learns  of  the 
capture  of  his  son,  while  in  arms  against  his 
country,  and  later,  when  he  is  obliged  to 
sentence  him  to  death,  that  he  rises  to  the 
height  of  excellence,  the  conflict  between  the 


86  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

tender  feelings  of  the  loving  father  and  the 
stern  sense  of  justice  of  the  outraged  patriot 
were  given  in  a  manner  so  realistic  that  it 
seemed  Brutus  himself  and  not  the  actor  who 
faced  the  audience.  Acting  equal  to  Mc- 
Cullough's  is  not  seen  every  day  upon  the 
boards,  and  that  he  is  heartily  appreciated 
is  to  the  credit  of  his  auditors. " 

Of  this  assumption  of  Brutus,  Mr.  Clapp's 
ripened  judgment  adds,  in  the  Advertiser  of 
January  25,  1879,  "Mr.  McCullough  never 
played  a  part  here  in  which  the  feeling  seemed 
more  intense  and  genuine,  nor  one  in  which 
the  whole  impersonation  took  a  firmer  hold 
upon  the  imagination  of  the  auditor.  From 
the  moment  when  Brutus  throws  off  his  mask 
of  folly,  McCullough  plays  with  sustained 
and  passionate  power,  a  wise  temperance 
giving  'smoothness'  to  his  fiercest  utterances, 
and  the  very  spirit  of  an  ancient  Roman 
seeming  to  have  taken  possession  of  his  face 
end  action  and  speech.  As  the  tragedy  draws 
to  its  close,  his  acting  grows  more  and  more 
impressive,  the  tremendous  feeling  which 
moves  his  spirit,  finds  expression  in  tones  and 
gestures  from  which  all  trace  of  artifice  has 
disappeared,  which  seems  to  be  the  very 
language  of  passion  itself  and  we  see  the  very 
Brutus  of  romance,  inflexible  yet  tender, 


McCULLOUGH   IN    BOSTON  87 

grandiloquent  but  not  bombastic.  Scores 
of  brief  speeches,  a  line,  or  half  a  line,  or 
even  a  word,  attest  the  actor's  power  by  the 
swift  conveyance  of  his  character  and  his 
thought.  For  example,  his  'Consul,  for  Rome 
I  live,  not  for  myself  seems  to  express  and 
sum  up  in  itself  the  high  patriotism  of  a 
grand  nature. 

"In  the  last  scenes  with  his  son,  the  depth 
and  strength  of  McCullough's  feeling  and  the 
beauty  and  propriety  of  his  art  are  truly 
wonderful,  and  all  is  said  and  done  with  the 
simplicity  which  marks  the  best  work  of  a 
great  actor.  Seldom  have  the  tones  of  a 
voice  been  made  more  eloquent  and  pathetic 
than  his.  They  thrill  with  exquisite  tender- 
ness, with  the  yearning,  despairing  love  of  the 
father,  yet  never  overdo  the  intense  love, 
the  strong  undercurrent  vibration  of  the  iron 
will  of  the  Roman  Consul. " 

On  January  28,  1879,  "Henry  VIII."  was 
given,  and  of  this  role  Mr.  Clapp  says:  "  Mc- 
Cullough's Cardinal  Wolsey  was  well  worth 
seeing.  The  artist  labors  under  the  disad- 
vantage of  having  a  face  ill  adapted  to 
Wolsey' s  character,  the  predominant  frank 
expression  lacking  sufficient  craft,  and  the 
play  of  features  not  being  suitably  swift 


88  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

and  mobile.  But  in  bearing,  acting  and 
speech,  McCullough's  Wolsey  is  strong  and 
original.  We  have  seen  Wolsey  more  vivid, 
but  none  ever  better  expressed  the  idea  of  the 
dramatist.  In  the  conventual  stage  assump- 
tion of  the  Cardinal,  so  much  emphasis  is 
laid  upon  his  outward  haughtiness  and  arro- 
gance that  Queen  Katharine's  own  portrait 
of  him,  drawn  with  all  the  truth  of  sharp- 
eyed  fear  and  hate,  is  made  of  none  effect. 

'  You  are  meek  and  humble  mouthed, 
You  sign  your  place  and  calling  in  full  seeming 
With  meekness  and  humility.     But  your  heart 
Is  crammed  with  arrogancy,  spleen  and  pride.' 

'  McCullough  follows  the  plain  instruction 
of  these  lines  most  faithfully.  With  inferiors 
or  equals  he  may  some  times  throw  off  the 
disguise  and  appear  in  all  his  pride,  but  before 
the  King  and  Queen  he  never  forgets  the  out- 
ward show  of  modesty.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  the  true  character  of  the  Cardinal  is 
made  to  appear  through  all  this  seeming  and 
the  ambition,  cruelty  and  greed  of  his  nature 
are  strongly  shown.  In  the  scenes  which 
follow  the  Car  dinars  downfall,  McCullough 
plays  finely;  the  barely  restrained  passions 
of  his  first  encounter  with  Surrey,  Norfolk 


McCULLOUGH   IN   BOSTON  ,89 

and  Suffolk  being  most  impressive,  and  the 
gradual  elevation,  through  phases  of  dignity, 
extreme  alarm,  despair,  contrition  and  forget- 
fulness  of  self  to  the  last  pious  renunciation 
is  made  as  natural  as  those  puzzling  scenes 
will  allow  any  one  to  make  it." 

Of  his  Lear  it  was  recorded:  "  Had  McCul- 
lough  given  to  the  American  stage  nothing 
more  than  his  impersonation  of  King  Lear,  he 
might  well  be  content  to  rest  upon  that  mag- 
nificent performance  his  claim  to  rank  with 
the  greatest  tragedians  of  the  age.  His  appeal 
to  the  winds  and  the  elements  when  he  is 
wandering  in  the  storm  is  all  the  more  effective 
because  its  vehemence  and  terrible  earnestness 
are  unmarred  by  any  extravagance  in  decla- 
mation or  action.  The  gradual  coming  on 
of  madness,  recalling  the  old-time  authority 
in  the  fantastic  scene  at  court  on  the  waste, 
where  only  the  disguised  Edgar  and  his  faith- 
ful follower  are  present  to  do  him  honor, 
while  anything  more  effective  than  the  mar- 
vellous way  in  which  is  simulated  his  slow 
recall  to  reason  by  Cordelia  s  voice,  and  the 
knowledge,  at  last,  that  she  is  his  faithful 
daughter^  we  cannot  hope  to  see  from  any 
American  actor.  The  house  almost  '  rose'  at 


90  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

him  in  their  desire  to  give  him  due  meed  of 
plaudits  after  the  famous  curse  scene." 

On  Friday  afternoon,  January  31,  1879,  a 
performance  complimentary  to  the  great 
tragedian,  was  given  by  the  company  named 
in  his  honor  at  the  German  Theatre,  John 
Banim's  play  of  '  Damon  and  Pythias " 
being  selected*  for  representation.  Cards  of 
invitation  were  issued  to  the  entire  dramatic 
profession  of  the  city,  and  McCullough  hon- 
ored the  occasion  with  his  presence. 

In  the  lobby  of  the  Boston  Theatre,  near 
the  entrance  to  the  Mason-street  passageway, 
and  beside  the  large  portrait  of  Virginius, 
hangs  to-day  a  handsomely  framed  testimonial 
to  the  favorite  actor,  indicative  of  the  regard 
felt  for  him  by  many  noted  citizens  of  the 
Commonwealth,  of  which  the  following  copy 
has  been  made  by  the  kind  permission  of 
Mr.  F.  E.  Pond,  the  present  manager  of  the 
Boston  Theatre: 

Boston,  January  24,  1883. 
Mr.  John  McCullough. 

Dear  Sir:  Desiring  an  opportunity  to  make 
a  public  and  formal  acknowledgment  of  your 
great  abilities  as  an  artist,  and  of  the  pleasure 
we  have  at  the  deserved  eminence  you  have 
attained  in  your  profession,  we  respectfully 


McCULLOUGH   IN   BOSTON 


91 


ask  that  you  will  give  a  a  special  performance 
of  John   Howard   Payne's  tragedy,  "Brutus 
or  the  Fall  of  Tarquin  ",  on  the  evening  of 
Friday,   February   2,    1883,    at    the    Boston 
Theatre. 


Albert  Palmer 
Samuel  A.  Green 
Patrick  A.  Collins 
Charles  Levi  Woodbury 
Hugh  O'Brien 
James  J.  Flynn 
Wm.  Wooley 
R.  E.  Denman 
Geo.  G.  Hall 
R.  S.  Milton 
George  A.  Harden 
George  G.  Crocker 
Stephen  N.  Gifford 
Samuel  Dalton 
R.  M.  Pulsifer 
John  M.  Clark 
Chas.  H.  Taylor 
Charles  Albert  Prince 
Charles  Field 
Henry  A.  Green 
Oliver  Ditson 
L.  P.  Farmer 
Ed.  A.  Perry 
Orlando  Tompkins 
J.  P.  Bradlee 
R.  H.  White      - 


Benjamin  F.  Butler 
Oliver  Ames 
Michael  Doherty 
Benjamin  Dean 
H.  D.  Parker 
Wm.  R.  Alger 
Chas.  A.  Whittier 
George  Baty  Blake 
Sam'l  C.  Cobb 
Robt.  D.  Smith 
Jehu  Boyle  O'Reilly 
Silas  Gurney 
S.  W.  Langmaid 
David  Nevins 
R.  Chandler,  M.  S.  N. 
Francis  Barlton 
W.  W.  Clapp 
R.  Worthington 
W.  A.  Simmons 
Charles  H.  Andrew 
Jas.  J.  Crawley 
J.  R.  Whipple 
M.  P.  Curran 
H.  A.  McGlenen 
S.  Bartlett 
Charles  W.  Dyar 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN  THE  METROPOLIS. 

"  He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life." 

-Othello. 

Although  traveling  continously  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  our  broad  country, 
McCullough  made  New  York  his  headquarters, 
his  professional  centre,  and  here  he  played 
many  notable  engagements.  His  first  man- 
ager was  Matthew  Canning,  but  in  the 
spring  of  1878,  his  faithful  friend,  Mr.  William 
M.  Conner,  assumed  control  of  his  professional 
work,  and  retained  it  throughout  his  too 
brief  career. 

He  made  his  first  appearance  in  New  York 
as  a  star,  on  May  4,  1874,  in  the  role  of  Spar- 
tacus,  later  appearing  as  Richelieu  and  Hamlet. 
This  engagement  was  played  at  Booth's 
Theatre,  and  here,  when  "King  John"  was 
revived  on  May  25,  he  took  the  part  of 
Falconbridge.  Later  in  the  summer,  after  a 
flying  trip  to  California,  he  assisted  in  a  new 
play  by  Boucicault,  "Belle  Lamar,"  whose 
presentation  was  awaited  with  great  interest, 
partly  from  the  fame  of  the  author,  but  also 
for  the  testing  of  McCullough  in  a  new  part. 

92 


IN    THE  METROPOLIS  93 

The  New  York  Herald  reports,  "The  drama 
is  remarkable  for  its  deep  pathos  and  vigor- 
ous action,  and  touches  the  chord  of  the 
national  heart  at  once,  which  vibrates  with  the 
emotions  of  the  recent  civic  strife.  In  Colonel 
Bligh,  McCullough  finds  a  role  suited  at  once 
to  his  temperament  and  his  aspirations  for 
the  heroic.  His  presentation  of  the  character 
was  full  of  manly  dignity  and  power. 

At  the  same  theatre,  on  September  14, 
Otway's  tragedy  of  "Venice  Preserved"  was 
produced  and  McCullough  enacted  the  part 
of  Pierre,  which  remained  one  of  his  favorite 
roles.  He  did  not  appear  in  New  York  again 
until  April  2,  1877,  but  on  his  every  return, 
his  great  advancement  was  quickly  noticed, 
the' artistic  finish,  the  classic  grace  and  added 
power  which  marked  his  impersonations.  He 
appeared  in  Virginius  on  this  occasion  for 
one  week,  and  was  then  seen  in  several  of  his 
great  roles.  Among  these,  Richard  III  is 
described  in  the  New  York  Tribune  of  April 
11,  with  all  the  keen  discernment,  ripened 
judgment  and  poetic  touch  for  which  its 
critiques  are  noted. 

"  McCullough 's  ideal  of  Richard  III  is  based 
on  intellect,  conscience,  sardonic  humor,  latent 
sensibility  and  fiery  physical  vitality;  and  his 
execution  of  it  reveals  nothing  less  than  a 


94  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

prodigy  of  structural  power.  The  famous 
words  once  spoken  to  the  poet  Campbell,  may 
justly  be  written  here,  in  justification  of  this 
noble  achievement.  'This  will  bear  another 
wreath  of  laurel  yet.'  One  test  of  the  innate 
faculty  in  the  dramatic  art,  we  take  to  be  the 
question  of  skill  to  differentiate  character. 
McCullough  is  nearest  to  himself  in  Virginius 
and  furthest  from  himself  in  Richard  III,  yet 
he  is  equally  truthful  to  the  substance  of  both 
and  equally  excellent  in  the  method  of  its 
expression.  Point  by  point,  accordingly,  he 
satisfies  the  sternest  standard,  that  critical 
examination  can  apply.  Morbid  parts  and 
parts  that  are  largely  saturated  with  finesse 
may,  for  a  long  time  yet,  clash  against  certain 
of  the  limitations  of  either  his  nature  or  his 
experience,  but  where  the  feelings  involved 
are  elemental,  he  moves  to  victory  with  the 
assured  step  and  spontaneous  grace  of  an 
ordained  conqueror. 

"Two  qualities  in  his  Richard  III,  super- 
added  to  all  the  essential  merits,  make  it  the 
best  on  the  stage — elevation  of  the  ideal  and 
simplicity  of  style.  There  is  nothing  common 
in  the  quality  of  mind,  and  there  is  no  over- 
subtlety  in  the  temperament.  It  is  remarka- 
ble also  for  identification.  The  instant  this 
Gloster  walked  upon  the  stage,  he  was  recog- 


IN    THE   METROPOLIS  95 

nized  as  a  consummate  type  of  malignant 
force.  His  face — as  Quin  said  of  Macklin— 
was  marked  not  with  lines,  but  with  cordage, 
and  the  blight  of  deformity  was  felt  to  have 
diffused  itself  through  every  particle  of  the 
man.  Commingled  with  these  elements  of 
the  viper  though,  were  the  elements  of  airy 
duplicity  and  ofT-hand  good  nature.  This 
was  a  demon  of  malignant  purpose  and  he 
wore  the  bluff  manner  of  a  winning  man  of 
the  world;  and  he  wore  these  without  ever 
sacrificing  poetic  ideal  to  the  actual. 

"In  the  scene  with  Lady  Anne,  the  fascina- 
tion that  Gloster  could  exercise  was  expressed 
as  we  have  never  seen  it  expressed  before. 
The  glamor  was  that  of  an  ardent,  remorseful 
man,  and  therefore  a  charm  that  a  woman 
could  appreciate;  and  no  spectator  could 
marvel  at  the  widow's  surrender.  This  scene 
has  been  made  more  dazzling  as  a  piece  of 
brilliant  acting,  but  never  in  our  time  so 
real  with  human  passion.  Mr.  McCullough's 
Richard  is  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  not  too  far 
removed  from  the  life  of  men  of  action.  And 
yet  in  some  subtle  way,  its  spirit  suggests  at 
a  very  early  stage  in  the  action,  a  nature 
that  preys  upon  itself  and  has  already  begun 
to  suffer  from  the  tooth  of  gnawing  remorse. 
The  whole  terrible  aspect  of  this  side  of  the 


96  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

character  stands  clearly  shown,  of  course,  in 
the  night  scene,  before  the  battle,  arid  in  the 
great  dream-scene,  but  the  beauty  and  power 
of  these  passages  of  presentiment  and  torture 
are  ten-fold  more  impressive  because  these 
horrors  are  fore-shadowed.  To  feel  this  op- 
portunity in  Shakespeare's  superb  mechanism 
and  to  use  it  with  a  delicacy  quite  equal  to 
that  in  which  it  is  framed,  is  to  rise  to  a  great 
occasion,  and  this  adequacy  without  the  least 
reserve,  we  testify  that  Mr.  McCullough  ex- 
hibited in  the  whole  of  his  treatment  of  the 
undertone  in  Gloster's  nature.  No  actor  can 
ever  have  done  more  with  the  delirium  of  the 
awakening.  Its  action  and  the  almost  in- 
articulate cries  curdled  the  blood  of  many  a 
listener;  and  the  preservation  of  the  illusion 
was  terribly  perfect.  The  tumult  of  the 
battle  scenes  had  a  distinct  realism  and  the 
final  conflict  was  of  fearful  earnestness.  It 
is  not  by  points  though,  but  by  continuous 
sustaiiiment  of  a  lofty  ideal  pitch,  that  this 
performance  commands  its  rank.  We  give 
in  this  quiet  statement  of  its  character  but  a 
faint  idea  of  its  superlative  excellence." 

On  April  25,  the  columns  of  the  Tribune 
again  furnish  a  scholarly  tribute  to  the  great 
actor.  "  If  McCullough's  interpretation  of 
King  Lear  is  not  in  all  particulars  the  highest 


IN    THE   METROPOLIS  97 

and  fullest  embodiment  of  the  part  that  has 
been  seen  within  our  time,  it  assuredly  ranks 
with  the  highest  and  fullest  in  some  of  the 
best  attributes  that  a  performance  of  King 
Lear  can  possess.  To  the  eye  it  is  beautiful, 
reverend  and  majestic;  to  the  ear  it  is  sono- 
rous, sweet,  thrilling,  tender  and  lamenta- 
ble; to  the  mind  it  is  grand,  fruitful  and 
various;  to  the  heart  it  is  woful,  tragic,  and 
pathetic.  In  ideal,  it  follows  Shakespeare's 
conception  so  closely  that  no  student  of 
Shakespeare  can  reject  it.  In  the  present- 
ment of  the  madness,  it  is  profoundly  and 
innately  true.  It  has,  physically,  all  the 
requisite  size,  weight,'  port  and  power.  It  is 
developed  by  imaginative  means,  out  of  a 
deep  and  loving  heart.  It  is  thoroughly  im- 
perial in  the  great  moments.  It  shows  enor- 
mous reserve  power.  It  sounds  an  almost  in- 
finite depth  of  grief.  And  it  is  moulded  and 
shaded  with  a  remarkable  artistic  skill.  These 
general  statements  indicate  its  character  and 
worth. 

'  Forrest's  King  Lear  was  beyond  all 
question  a  work  of  magnificent  stature,  in 
mind  and  emotion  not  less  than  personal 
presence,  but  it  was  always  deformed  by  an 
exaggeration  of  the  signs  of  physical  vigor 
and  physical  decrepitude.  In  the  artistic 


98  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

method  of  McCullough's  performance  all  this 
is  toned  by  magnificent  suggestiveness — a 
quality  which  we  take  to  be  the  perfection 
of  the  dramatic  art.  It  is  less  upon  splendid 
unity,  however,  than  upon  splendid  phases 
that  the  reminiscent  thought  will  pause  in 
reviewing  the  performance.  There  was,  for 
instance,  what  we  will  call  an  autumn  sunset 
light  over  all  the  mood  and  conduct  of  the 
King  in  the  first  scene  with  the  Fool — that 
touching  scene  wherein  manifest  mental  decay 
and  vague  mistrust  of  the  future  are  first 
darkly  indicated,  and  nothing  could  be  in 
closer  consonance  than  the  sweet  and  almost 
forlorn  manner  is  with  Lear's  condition. 

"The  curse  —  a  gem  of  utterance  —  was 
made  as  afflicting  with  thwarted  and  delirious 
tenderness  as  it  was  terrible  with  frenzied 
passion,  the  outburst  of  impotent  rage  and 
broken-hearted,  scorned  and  self -contemning 
love,  with  which  the  King  finally  breaks 
away,  and  with  a  beauty  of  vocalism  seldom 
equalled  within  a  long  remembrance  of  the 
stage.  The  apostrophe  'Let  the  great  gods' 
was  made  the  framework  of  as  much  majesty 
of  state  and  pose  as  ever  was  seen,  and  the 
entire  great  passage  was  thrilled  with  an 
imaginative  portentous  excitement  in  the 
highest  degree  poetic. 


IN    THE   METROPOLIS  99 

'  I  have  one  part  in  my  heart  that's  sorry 
yet  for  thee,'  was  spoken  in  the  manner  which 
the  suggestion  of  innate  greatness  and  limit- 
less love  makes  memorable.  It  was  in  the 
mad  scene  however,  that  McCullough  en- 
tirely reached  and  kept  the  height  of  King 
Lear's  nature  and  experience.  The  stage 
can  never  have  presented  anything  more  true 
or  more  pathetic  than — in  the  first  mad 
scene — the  actor's  presentment  of  the  gradual 
breaking  up  of  the  old  man's  mind,  accom- 
panied as  it  is,  for  a  part  of  the  way,  with  its 
own  piteous  and  awful  sense  of  the  calamity 
that  is  in  progress.  The  undercurrent  of 
sweetness,  the  outward  denotement  of  bitter 
misery,  the  madness  of  the  eyes  and  of  the 
whole  figure,  and  the  abject  lunacy  of  the 
action,  in  the  talk  with  the  Bedlamite,  made 
this  a  perfect  scene.  Better  it  never  was  in 
the  interpretation  of  any  actor. 

The  next  mad  scene  though  less  touching 
was  not  less  true,  and  it  denotes  a  keen  study 
in  the  actor  who  thus  deals  with  the  charac- 
teristics of  lunacy,  that  he  now  offered  a  con- 
dition of  simple  madness,  permeated,  of 
course,  by  the  one  idea  of  filial  cruelty  but 
no  longer  harrowing  with  the  element  of  con- 
scious mental  disintegration.  .  .  .  Innate 
majesty,  personal  grandeur,  and  lovable  no- 


100  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

bility  make  up  the  original  nature  of  the 
monarch  and  hence  his  experience  of  cruelty 
and  misery  is  almost  unbearably  terrible  and 
afflicting.  McCullough  gives  the  stage  this 
interpretation  of  Shakespeare  and  the  public 
received  his  work  with  much  enthusiasm." 

The  same  critic  records  an  earlier  triumph 
thus:  "  McCullough 's  splendid  faculty  of  imagi- 
nation to  conceive  and  his  extraordinary  force 
of  art  to  execute,  so  completely  thrilled  his 
auditors  in  his  fine  and  superb  attainment 
of  spiritual  control,  that  they  leaped  to  their 
feet  in  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm — an  indicative 
fact  which  speaks  for  him,  very  eloquently." 
"McCullough,  '  a  man  whom  adversity  could 
not  conquer  and  whom  prosperity  could  not 
mar,'  rests  his  reputation  upon  some  of  the 
most  solid  and  brilliant  successes  in  the 
dramatic  art  that  have  been  achieved  on  the 
American  stage.  His  eminence  has  been 
fairly  and  fully  won,  it  is  the  honest  dignity 
of  genius  and  culture." 

At  the  close  of  this  engagement  on  April 
27,  the  artist  was  given  a  benefit,  "Othello" 
being  the  play  chosen.  After  repeated  plau- 
dits and  recalls,  at  the  close  of  the  perform- 
ance, he  was  presented  with  a  laurel  wreath  of 
solid  silver,  all  the  actors  and  artisans  in  the 
theatre  assembling  on  the  stage  for  that  pur- 


IN    THE  METROPOLIS  101 

pose.     The  wreath  was  enclosed  in  a  hand- 
some casket  inscribed  as  follows: 

Presented  to  John  McCullough  by  New  York  friends 
At  Booth's  Theatre,  N.   Y.,  on  the  occasion 
Of   his    Farewell    Benefit,    Friday    Eve 
April  27,  1877. 

Mr.  Fred  B.  Warde,  in  presenting  this  beau- 
tiful testimonial,  addressed  the  beneficiary 
thus: 

"  Mr.  McCullough.  It  seems  fitting  that 
I  should  address  you  on  this  occasion,  clothed 
as  we  are  in  the  habiliments  of  the  stage,  for 
beyond  a  reference  to  your  social  excellence, 
I  am  charged  to  my  colleagues  and  all  of  the 
attaches  of  the  theatre  with  the  pleasant  task 
of  congratulating  you  upon  the  artistic  suc- 
cess that  has  marked  the  engagement  by 
which  the  management  of  Jarrett  and  Palmer 
is  so  brilliantly  closing.  I  beg  that  you  will 
credit  my  words  with  more  sincerity  than 
those  belonging  to  the  character  I  have  just 
impersonated  (I ago)  would  indicate,  for  I 
trust  you  to  believe  that  in  all  I  say,  I  speak 
from  the  fulness  of  my  heart. 

"  During  the  four  weeks  of  your  appearance 
here,  the  people  of  the  stage  have  had  abun- 
dant opportunities  to  receive  correct  impres- 
sions of  your  worth  as  a  man.  The  press  and 
public  have  determined  your  status  as  an 
actor.  I  am  free  to  .say  without  drawing 
invidious  comparisons  that  no  star  has 
entered  the  precincts  of  the  stage  of  Booth's 


102  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Theatre  and  gone  away  carrying  a  greater 
load  of  kindly  wishes  than  will  be  borne  by 
you  when  the  curtain  falls  upon  the  last  scene 
acted  by  you  in  this  house.  Every  one  of  the 
many  by  whom  we  are  now  surrounded  on 
the  stage,  feels  indebted  to  you  for  some  act 
of  kindness,  even  the  humblest,  though  it  be 
but  a  simple  word  of  encouragement.  We  all 
have  for  you  as  a  man  and  as  an  actor,  the 
highest  regard.  The  sentiment  has  taken  the 
appropriate  form  of  a  wreath  of  laurel,  which 
I  now  have  the  honor  of  presenting  to  you, 
in  the  name  of  the  company  of  Booth's 
Theatre,  of  the  several  mechanical  depart- 
ments, the  orchestra,  those  in  front  of  the 
house,  the  working  force,  and  in  fact  every 
one  in  any  capacity  belonging  to  the  estab- 
lishment. I  ask  your  acceptance  of  this  tes- 
timonial, Mr.  McCullough,  and  pray  in  the 
name  of  your  friends,  that  your  future  may 
be  all  that  is*  so  promising  for  it,  at  the  present 
time." 

After  the  applause  had  died  away,  McCul- 
lough made  this  reply: 

"  Mr.  Warde,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  of  Booth's 

Theatre. 

"  I  have  great  reason  to  be  proud  to-night, 
for  it  seems  that  I  have  gained  an  approbation 
of  my  own  craft  in  the  efforts  in  our  art  that 
I  have  made  during  the  engagement  now 
about  to  close.  Your  reference  to  my  gentle- 
manly deportment  in  all  our  business  and 
social  relations,  is  a  courteous  and  pleasing 


/AT    THE  METROPOLIS  103 

allusion  for  which  I  beg  your  acceptance  of 
my  grateful  acknowledgment.  The  substan- 
tial and  beautiful  testimonial  of  your  regard 
for  me  as  a  man  and  actor  I  highly  prize  and 
shall  always  value  it  to  the  utmost,  as  a 
souvenir  of  one  of  the  most  important  engage- 
ments of  my  long  professional  career. 

"  I  am  indebted  to  the  public  for  its  attend- 
ance on  my  impersonations  and  to  the  press 
of  this  metropolis  for  the  thought  and  com- 
mendation it  has  given  to  my  endeavors. 
To  all  around  me  to-night,  I  have  but  to  say 
and  wish  to  be  received  as  fraught  with 
sincerity,  that  I  am  very  thankful  to  Messrs. 
Jarrett  and  Palmer,  we  are  all  indebted, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  for  the  judicious  liberty 
that  has  marked  the  conduct  of  the  affairs  of 
this  elegant  theatre.  For  my  part,  I  wish 
them  to  know  that  I  fully  appreciate  all  that 
they  have  done  to  make  my  stay  here  com- 
fortable, pleasant  and  successful,  and  to  pro- 
mote the  advancement  of  the  legitimate 
drama. 

"  Mr.  Warde,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  wish 
you  all  good  night." 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  THE  METROPOLIS. 
(Continued.) 

"  No  life 

Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose  and  strong  in  its  strife 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  thereby." 

— Owen  Meredith. 

McCullough's  next  appearance  in  New  York 
occurred  at  the  Grand  Opera  House  on  April 
22,  1878,  an  engagement  made  notable  by  the 
production  of  "  The  Fall  of  Tarquin  "  for  the 
first  time  in  the  city,  the  tragedian  enacting 
the  part  of  Lucius  Brutus.  He  was  seen 
again  here  in  May,  in  a  varied  repertoire,  and 
in  the  following  December  revived  "  Corio- 
lanus."  On  November  14,  1881,  he  made  his 
re-entree  in  the  metropolis  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre,  the  occasion  also  emphasiz- 
ing his  forty-ninth  birthday,  to  which  the 
Mirror  of  November  20,  alludes: 

"  At  Fifth  Avenue  McCullough  returned 
to  the  New  York  stage,  in  the  character  of 
'Virginius.  The  occasion  was  further  inter- 
esting as  the  anniversary  of  his  birth,  and  his 
friends  knew  of  no  better  means  to  celebrate 
it  than  by  giving  him  a  bumper  in  the  way  of 
a  hearty  reception,  cart-loads  of  rare  floral 
gifts,  and  tumults  of  applause,  whenever 


104 


IN    THE   METROPOLIS  105 

opportunity  offered.  That  he  is  the  most 
popular  player  of  his  time,  all  those  who  are 
accquainted  with  the  story  of  his  success  and 
the  great  prosperity  with  which  he  has  had 
the  good  fortune  on  every  hand  to  meet,  will 
frankly  concede.  This  is  largely  due  to  his 
being  what  is  popularly  termed  a  thoroughly 
'good  fellow,'  with  a  social  reputation  and  a 
heart  as  big  as  his  body.  A  princely  enter- 
tainer, a  genial  companion,  a  liberal  purse, 
these  three  attributes  have  gained  John  Mc- 
Cullough  a  good  part  of  his  fame,  and  nobody 
begrudges  him  one  iota  of  it." 

The  same  paper  recprds  that  "  his  personal 
magnetism  'tells'  even  at  the  box  office." 

But  McCullough's  ever  increasing  excel- 
lence in  dramatic  art  was  a  larger  factor  than 
"  magnetism  "  in  box-office  receipts.  As  in- 
stance thereof,  in  his  preceding  season,  he  had 
cleared  forty  thousand  dollars,  and  in  two 
performances  of  Spartacus,  given  in  one  day 
in  Brooklyn,  his  profits  were  four  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  A  four 
weeks  visit  in  California  netted  him  thirty-six 
thousand  dollars.  He  played  several  engage- 
ments in  Brooklyn,  at  the  Park  and  Novelty 
Theatres,  in  many  diverse  parts,  producing 
here  in  December,  1879,  "  The  Honeymoon," 
in  which  he  enacted  Duke  Aranza. 


106  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

No  American  actor  ever  appeared  in  so 
many  different  parts,  or  possessed  a  reper- 
toire of  so  wide  a  range.  The  following  is  an 
approximate  list  of  the  characters  he  repre- 
sented, at  various  epochs  in  his  career: 

Parts.  Plays. 

Virginius Virginius 

Othello Othello 

Lucius  Brutus     The  Fall  of  Tarquin 

Marcus  Brutus     Julius  Caesar 

lago       Othello 

Macbeth      .  . . Macbeth 

King  Lear King  Lear 

Coriolanus    Coriolanus 

Spartacus   The  Gladiator 

Benedick    .  .-. Much  Ado  About  Nothing 

Shy  lock .  Merchant  of  Venice 

Petruchio    Taming  of  the  Shrew 

Falconbridge    King  John 

Richard  III Richard  III 

Cardinal  Wolsey     Henry  VIII 

Hamlet     Hamlet 

Pierre Venice  Preserved 

Richelieu Richelieu 

Jack  Cade     ..Jack  Cade 

The  Stranger    The  Stranger 

St.  Pierre      The  Wife 

Damon    Damon  and  Pythias 

Metamora Metamora 

Claude  Melnotte The   Lady   of   Lyons 

Duke  Aranza : The  Honeymoon 

Ingomar      Ingomar 

Rolla         Pizarro 

A  Ifred  Evelyn     Money 

Master  Walter    The  Hunchback 

Febro   The  Broker  of  Bogota 


IN    THE  METROPOLIS  107 

It  would  be  impossible  to  recount  in  full,  the 
occasions  in  which  he  gladly  lent  his  powers 
for  the  benefit  of  some  charity,  or  to  aid  some 
brother  or  sister  in  his  profession.  Although 
his  aim  was  high  and  firm,  it  was  for  others 
as  well  as  for  himself.  His  great  loving  heart 
could  not  have  accepted  a  position  built  upon 
another's  downfall.  No  subordinate  actor 
was  ever  driven  to  the  wall  to  advance  his 
interests,  although  such  unselfishness  is  not  a 
prominent  trait  in  any  profession.  Mistakes 
were  his,  such  as  are  common  to  mortals, 
temptations  and  weaknesses  were  not  always 
overcome,  but  only  good  is  immortal,  error  is 
but  a  limitation  of  soul  growth,  an  ever 
lessening  quantity.  McCullough  was  meek- 
ness, gentleness  and  kindness  incarnate,  gener- 
ous in  lavish  degree,  both  worthy  and  un- 
worthy alike,  being  recipients  of  his  large 
bounty. 

Consequently,  he  was  very  prompt  to  give 
a  performance  (September  5,  1879)  for  the 
benefit  of  the  yellow  fever  sufferers,  when 
this  pestilence  ravaged  the  Southern  States, 
in  consideration  of  which  kindly  service  he 
was  later  presented  with  a  gold  medal  by  the 
people  of  Memphis,  Tenn.  Again  he  played 
in  aid  of  those  made  homeless  by  the  Mis- 
sissippi floods,  and  this  deed  was  also  com- 


108  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

memorated  by  a  gold  and  silver  medal  from 
the  citizens  of  St.  Louis. 

On  October  12,  1877,  he  participated  in  a 
benefit  at  the  Academy  of  Music  for  Edwin 
Adams,  then  on  his  death-bed,  and  it  is  in- 
teresting to  record  that  at  his  transition, 
which  occurred  sixteen  days  later,  that  Mc- 
Cullough  selected  the  lines  from  "Julius 
Caesar"  which  are  inscribed  on  his  grave- 
stone at  Philadelphia,  the  same  quotation 
later  most  fittingly  utilized  for  his  own. 

"  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  '  This  was  a  man.'  ' 

It  is  but  simple  justice  to  record  that  McCul- 
lough  supported  Mr.  Adams  throughout  his 
entire  illness,  in  so  modest,  unobtrusive  a  way 
that  the  invalid,  while  aware  of  it,  was  hardly 
conscious  of  it,  never  painfully  so.  His  gen- 
erous friend  kept  him  at  the  Soda  Springs  in 
Napa  Valley,  California,  for  some  time,  during 
the  preceding  summer,  and  later,  for  a  longer 
season,  in  the  more  equable  climate  of  San 
Rafael,  McCullough  once  remarking  to  an  old 
friend  that  there  was  no  one  to  look  after 
poor  Ned  but  himself. 

McCullough  assisted  in  a  performance  given 
for  the  benefit  of  John  Brougham  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  January  17,  1878,  giving 


IN    THE  METROPOLIS  109 

the  third  act  of  " Othello."  On  the  following 
May  22,  he  appeared  at  the  Boston  Theatre 
for  the  benefit  of  Mary  Anderson,  playing 
Claude  Melnotte  to  her  Pauline,  returning 
to  New  York  on  the  24th  to  honor  his  friend 
and  supporter,  Mr.  F.  B.  Warde,  playing 
Brutus  in  '  Julius  Caesar"  to  his  C&sar. 
Other  benefits  were  given  in  Washington,  on 
June  3.  Again  in  Boston,  May  31,  1882,  he 
enacted  Ingomar  to  Miss  Anderson's  Par- 
thenia,  for  her  testimonial.  On  another  occa- 
sion, when  playing  in  St.  Louis  and  thus  could 
not  assist  this  fair  beneficiary,  he  telegraphed 
the  box  office  to  reserve  a  seat  for  him,  sending 
his  check  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars  to  pay 
for  the  same.  Indeed  almost  every  theatre 
throughout  the  country,  where  any  need  could 
be  met,  has  witnessed  some  exhibition  of  his 
great  kindness  of  heart.  On  the  occasion  of 
the  Poe  Memorial  benefit,  December  8,  1881, 
he  played  the  wooing  scene  from  "  Richard 
III  '  to  Kate  Forsyth's  Queen  Anne,  por- 
traying the  gloomy,  fiery  Gloster  with  weird 
and  subtle  effect. 

The  extent  of  his  unstinted,  private  chari- 
ties, no  pen  could  possibly  enumerate,  or 
describe  in  fitting  terms.  But  for  this  beautiful 
and  lavish  generosity,  his  estate  at  his  decease 
would  have  been  a  large  one,  Kis  engagements 


110  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

were  everywhere  (because  of  his  great  popu- 
larity) so  lucrative.  A  review  of  his  accumu- 
lated correspondence  after  his  departure, 
disclosed  many  such  proofs  of  his  munificence. 
His  executor,  who  affirms  that  "  the  world 
will  never  know  of  the  thousands  of  dollars 
he  gave  away  in  charity,"  kindly  furnishes 
one  of  these  letters  written  by  a  grateful 
heart  whom  McCullough's  generosity  had 
blessed. 
"  Dear  John: 

You  have  given  me  escape  from  the  limita- 
tions and  anxieties  that  have  been  oppressing 
my  heart,  and  paralyzing  the  powers  of  my 
mind.  You  have  done  this  wi^h  the  delicacy 
of  a  woman,  and  the  generosity  of  a  great- 
hearted man.  You  have  done  more  than 
this,  you  have  brought  me  this  release  from 
misery  with  a  trustfulness  in  my  honor  that 
enriches  my  reverence  for  friendship  and  in- 
spires me  to  be  in  all  ways  wiser  and  better 
myself. 

"  If  I  could  coin  the  tears  of  thankfulness 
that  fall  from  my  eyes  as  I  think  of  your  love 
for  me,  the  money  I  owe  you  would  soon  be 
paid,  while  the  debt  of  my  affection,  only  the 
eternities  before  us  can  ever  give  me  the 
opportunity  to  reveal. 

With  the  blessings  of  my  wife  and  children 
upon  you,  I  am  always 

Your  Own, 
Heart,  Head  and  Hand, 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HIS  GREATEST  ROLE. 

"  Does  no  one  speak?    I  am  defendant  here." 

— Virginius. 

What  can  be  said  or  written  to  adequately 
portray  McCullough's  greatest  impersonation 
of  Virginius,  that  marvel  of  dramatic  art, 
that  role  par  excellence  which  he  made  his 
own,  and  by  which  he  will  be  longest  remem- 
bered? Words  are  powerless  to  do  justice  to 
this  grand  conception  and  masterly  delineation 
of  the  Roman  father.  More  than  any  other 
in  his  large  repertory,  it  gave  him  opportunity 
to  express  that  innate  tenderness  which  was 
so  salient  a  part  of  his  own  real  nature.  Hero- 
ism, strength,  honor,  virtue,  and  capacity  for 
crucial  sacrifice — all  these  characteristics  of 
his  own  being  were  given  free  play.  After  the 
scene  of  his  daughter's  immolation,  his  noble 
face  would  often  be  bathed  with  its  own  tears, 
his  strong  frame  would  shake  with  its  un- 
feigned emotion;  none  of  his  fellow  actors 
ever  presumed  to  speak  to  him  after  that 
scene. 

Early  in  his  starring  career,  before  this 
rendition  had  attained  that  ripened  perfec- 


111 


112  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

tion  which  afterward  signalized  it  so  remark- 
ably, the  Boston  Advertiser  of  February  10, 
1876,  remarks: 

'  InVirginius,  McCullough  finds  no  difficulty 
in  representing  with  due  fullness  and  force, 
the  character  of  an  ancient  Roman  in  all  its 
traditional  elements.  He  has  a  native  dig- 
nity, a  solid  and  vital  manliness,  not  wanting 
either  in  those  human. touches  that  belong  to 
the  Roman  father,  which  carry  weight  and 
power,  at  once.  The  affectionate  shrewdness 
of  the  parent,  watching  with  anxiety  the  first 
outreaching  of  his  daughter's  heart,  was  dis- 
played by  McCullough  with  real  grace  and 
skill,  and  yet  was  no  ill  preparation  for  the 
fierce  virility  with  which  he  seemed  changed 
in  speech,  look  and  attitude  when  he  first 
heard  the  news  of  war  and  turned  his  back 
upon  the  peace  and  joy  of  Rome.  His  pa- 
thetic power,  especially  in  the  madness  and 
misery  of  his  last  act,  was  truly  touching." 

After  the  lapse  of  another  year,  February 
6,  1877,  this  great  role  is  again  re  viewed 'by 
the  same  critic:  ;'  Virginius  is  a  part  pecu- 
liarly suited  to  McCullough,  and  his  imper- 
sonation is  ideally  excellent.  His  portraiture 
of  the  antique  Roman  soldier  and  citizen  of 
the  old  regime  is  noble  in  its  dignity,  its  manly 
simplicity,  its  deep-seated  strength.  It  is  a 


HIS    GREATEST   ROLE  113 

worthy  reproduction  of  that  type  which  knew 
how  to  subdue  the  world  because  it  had 
learned  to  subdue  itself,  which  loved  the  pure 
joys  of  home  next  after  the  clamor  and  tumult 
of  the  battle  field.  In  the  manly  sweetness  of 
the  early  scenes,  in  the  solid  force  and  then  the 
frenzied  energy  with  which  he  repels  the  assault 
of  Appius  Claudius  upon  his  daughter,  he  is  a 
worthy,  discriminating,  imaginative  repre- 
sentative of '  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. '  ' 

Again  on  February  26,  1878,  Mr.  Clapp's 
deep  appreciation  of  this  artistic  portrayal 
finds  fitting  expression:  '  As  a  presentment 
of  the  Roman  of  the  pristine  days — the  man 
'  pure  in  life  and  free  from  crime,'  the  just  man 
and  firm  of  purpose,  who  loves  liberty  and 
hates  falsehood,  it  seems  to  us  it  is  almost 
ideal.  It  has  superb  dignity  without  bombast, 
and  immense  force  without  violence.  McCul- 
lough's  Virginius  is  a  piece  of  strong  ,  elevated 
and  impressive  acting,  heroic  in  its  propor- 
tions and  sustained  upon  one  high  level  from 
first  to  last." 

The  Boston  Herald  of  January  16,  1883, 
pays  this  tribute:  '  After  a  year's  absence, 
John  McCullough  appeared  at  the  Boston 
Theatre  last  evening  in  his  favorite  character 
of  Virginius.  Bostonians  are  always  glad  to 
see  this  actor,  and  the  applause  which  greeted 


114  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

his  entrance  must  have  convinced  him  of 
this.  Mr.  McCullough  is  one  of  those  rare 
artists  who  are  never  content  with  well-doing. 
The  student  of  his  method  is  continually  dis- 
covering some  improving  feature.  There  seem 
to  be  many  touches  in  his  Virginius  which  he 
has  never  given  before,  yet  it  is  by  no  means 
a  performance  of  'points.'  McCullough  has 
cultivated  that  evenness  of  style  which  is  the 
true  criterion  of  what  is  best  in  the  actor's 
art.  There  is  probably  no  tragedian  on  the 
stage  to-day  more  capable  of  bursting  into 
moments  of  fury,  electrifying  passion  if  he 
chose;  but  recognizing  'the  fact  that  there  are 
other  and  better  things  to  accomplish,  and 
that  'still  waters  run  deep,'  McCullough  has 
almost  remodelled  his  older  methods.  Not 
that  he  has  gone  from  one  extreme  to  another 
and  become  a  tame  actor — that  would  be 
impossible  for  him — but  he  realizes  more  the 
possibilities  of  his  art  and  uses  his  powers  to 
attain  those  possibilities.  The  old  moments 
of  fire  and  energy  are  still  there,  but  their 
roughness  is  smoothed  away,  and  has  begot  a 
temperance  which  brings  out  more  vividly  the 
noble  tenderness  of  the  Roman  father's  nature. 
His  passion  does  not  spring  into  existence 
suddenly  and  as  suddenly  disappear.  On  the 
contrary,  as  in  the  prison  scene,  we  watch  the 


HIS    GREATEST   ROLE  115 

passion  surge  and  grow  until  it  bursts  its 
bonds  and  we  detect  its  ground  swell  as  it 
dies  away,  and  Virginius,  kneeling  above  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  strangled  Appius,  seems 
more  like  a  marble  representation  of  an  aveng- 
ing god  than  a  living  man. 

"  The  power  of  this  scene  was  attested  by 
the  silence  of  the  large  audience,  for  enthusi- 
astic applause  is  by  no  means  the  highest 
acknowledgment  of  an  actor's  efforts.  It  is 
a  great  thing,  no  doubt,  to  rouse  a  theatre  full 
of  people  to  the  top  pitch  of  excitement,  but 
it  is  a  greater  thing  to  hush  it  into  silence  and 
keep  its  attention  riveted  to  the  stage.  Not 
once,  but  many  times,  did  McCullough  com- 
mand the  hushed  attention  of  his  audience 
and,  when  he  did  break  out  with  Virginius' 
terrible  rage  and  anguish,  the  spectators,  as 
if  to  vent  the  feelings  which  they  had  sup- 
pressed throughout  an  entire  act,  applauded 
until  the  theatre  rang  again,  and  the  trage 
dian  had  to  come  four  times  before  the  curtain. 

"  Macready,  who  was  the  original  Virginius, 
made  the  part  his  greatest  impersonation,  but 
we  do  not  believe  that  even  Macready  in  his 
prime  could  have  thrilled  us  more  than  John 
McCullough  does  in  this  very  role.  It  does  not 
seem"  possible  that  anything  could  be  more 
impressive  in  its  way  than  the  latter  actor's 


116  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

overwhelming  utterance  to  Caius  Claudius 
'Are  you  the  man  who  claims  my  daughter 
for  his  slave?  Look  at  me  and  I'll  give  her 
to  you  !'  Nor  do  we  think  anything  finer  was 
ever  seen  upon  the  boards  than  his  scene  in 
the  camp  when  Virginius  learns  of  the  vile 
attempt  upon  his  daughter's  honor,  and  when 
in  his  exit,  as  we  see  rage,  anguish,  despair, 
resolve  mounting  to  his  face  and  suffusing 
every  limb,  each  feeling  chasing  the  other 
away  and  returning  again,  only  to  be  suc- 
ceeded by  a  well-nigh  ungovernable  rage, 
while  terrible  revenge  is  his  supreme  animat- 
ing passion,  he  says  to  Lucius,  '  I  will  be 
patient,  oh,  so  patient  !' 

'  Mr.  McCullough  is  an  artist  who  retains 
every  worthy  feature  of  what  is  vaguely  known 
as  the  'old  school,'  and  at  the  same  time 
embraces  the  better  points  of  what  is  ambi- 
tiously termed  'the  modern  school.'  Upon 
everything  he  does,  he  brings  to  bear  a  refined 
judgment,  a  great  experience,  a  magnificent 
elocution,  a  grand  style." 

Later,  January  6,  1884,  when  at  the  zenith 
of  his  power  and  finesse  of  his  art,  a  tribute 
was  given  him  in  Boston  which  was  attended 
by  Governor  Robinson,  Mayor  Martin  and  the 
Board  of  Aldermen,  who  desired  to  witness 
this  touching  tragedy,  and,  near  its  close, 


HIS    GREATEST   ROLE  117 

when  repeatedly  called  before  the  curtain, 
McCullough  finally  said,  evidently  much  affect- 
ed by  his  welcome  from  such  a  host  of 
friends  and  of  a  class  whose  very  assemblage 
it  was  said  was  ' '  a  great  compliment  to  the 
star." 

'  Perhaps  you  don't  think,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, that  I  appreciate  this  splendid  recep- 
tion. I  would  like  to  say  to  each  one  of  you 
in  person,  'God  bless  you,'  and  say  to  all,  for 
all  your  kindness,  '  I  thank  you  from  my 
whole  heart.'  ' 

Of  this  performance  the  Globe  states  "  His 
great  assumption  of  the  Roman  father  stands 
in  truth  alone,  unapproached  by  any  rival  on 
the  stage,  and  it  seems  altogether  unlikely  to 
be  excelled  by  any  player  in  the  future,  how- 
ever gifted.  The  actor  fills  the  role — virile, 
impassioned,  heroic  as  it  is  throughout — most 
perfectly.  The  simulation  of  patience  where 
most  impatient  desire  to  meet  those  who  have 
assailed  his  daughter's  honor  burns  in  his 
heart,  was  marvellously  done.  McCullough 
proved  himself  a  master  of  the  tragedian's  art. 
Forrest  could 'not  have  done  so  well.  His  act- 
ing is  simply  grand,  unapproached  certainly 
by  any  American  tragedian  in  point  of  dignity 
and  effect.  In  every  demand  upon  him,  it  is 
the  great  Roman  whom  McCullough  presents 


118  JOH  A7     McC  ULLOUGH 

to  view,  no  cold  abstraction,  no  mere  de- 
claimer,  but  the  man  himself  with  all  the 
noble  and  heroic,  the  historic  associations  of 
the  character  of  Virginius.  It  is  a  personation 
which  one  is  better  for  seeing,  and  it  is  worth 
seeing  twice  or  thrice,  as  a  model  of  a  school 
of  acting  which  has  to-day,  few  illustrations." 
The  Advertiser  of  current  date  also  reviews 
this  remarkable  performance.  "It  is  hardly 
possible  to  say  a  new  word  about  this  imper- 
sonation, but  the  reiteration  of  the  old  praise 
will  have  a  new  compass  so  long  as  it  is  sup- 
plemented by  the  thought  that  the  greatness 
of  the  effort  grows  more  and  more  striking 
every  year.  Virginius  never  seemed  so  strong 
so  sweet,  so  superb  in  his  magnificent  investi- 
ture of  manliness  as  on  this  occasion.  Mc- 
Cullough  is  so  easily  '  the  noblest  Roman  of 
them  all.'  The  dignity  and  force  that  befits 
the  toga  and  that  heroic  type  of  soldier  and 
citizen  which  yet  survived  in  the  days  of  the 
'  decemviri,'  are  worn  awkwardly,  or  at  best 
heavily  and  with  effort,  by  nearly  every  other 
modern  actor,  but  they  seem  to  belong  to 
McCullough's  very  personality,  making  a  part 
of  his  strong,  stately  step,  his  grand  bearing, 
of  his  deep-chested  sonorous  voice  that  utters 
its  frequent  trumpet  summons  to  the  spirit  of 
the  listener. 


HIS    GREATEST    ROLE  119 

"  This  is  the  ideal  Roman  of  history  and 
epic,  whose  only  fear  was  toward  the  gods, 
whose  honor  and  courage  grew  together  under 
the  one  sacred  name  of  virtue,  who  scorned 
to  pollute  his  soul  and  weaken  his  frame  with 
sensuality — the  true  son,  the  faithful  husband, 
the  loving  father,  the  sincere  friend,  the 
framer  and  defender  of  the  laws  of  marriage, 
the  builder  and  bulwark  of  states. 

"  The  simplicity  of  McCullough's  assump- 
tion considered  in  connection  with  its  im- 
mense effectiveness  is  the  proof  and  vindica- 
tion of  its  fine  artistic  quality  and  value.  The 
impression  is  produced  by  the  most  direct 
and  unelaborate  appeal  to  the  heart  and  mind, 
without  any  trickery  or  magic,  except  that 
which  lies  in  a  high  imagination  and  an  in- 
tense, concentrated  dramatic  purpose  work- 
ing therein.  But  simple  as  the  impersonation 
is,  it  is  never  dull  or  monotonous,  possessing 
as  it  does,  the  full  vitality  and  variety  which 
give  significance  and  interest  to  almost  every 
look  and  utterance  of  the  man. 

'  For  anything  sweeter  and  gentler  than  the 
hero's  look  and  word  to  his  Virginia,  it  would 
be  vain  to  seek  upon  the  stage.  And  if  ever 
a  man  had  the  movement,  the  bearing  and 
voice  of  a  lion,  they  are  his  in  the  forum  when 
he  confronts  Appius  and  his  pander;  if  the 


120  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

anguish  of  love  was  ever  borne  upon  the  glance, 
it  may  be  seen  in  his  eyes  when  he  takes  his 
last  look  at  his  child. 

1  The  spectacle  of  the  finest  tenderness 
combined  with  the  fullest  measure  of  virile 
force,  of  dignity  without  pretence,  of  power 
without  effort,  is  to  be  seen  in  McCullough's 
Virginius,  and  once  seen  is  not  to  be  for- 
gotten." 

Some  of  the  New  York  Tribune's  fine  and 
artistic  delineations  of  McCullough's  imper- 
sonations have  been  preserved  in  enduring 
form  as  '  Shadows  of  the  Stage  '  by  William 
Winter,  but  we  cannot  refrain  from  quoting 
(from  April  3,  1877)  one  that  has  not  been 
thus  perpetuated. 

"Sheridan  Knowles's  familiar  tragedy  of 
1  Virginius  'is  a  work  at  once  severely  simple 
and  intensely  human.  There  is  no  story  in 
the  treasure  house  of  ancient  literature  that 
possesses  more  simplicity,  tenderness  and 
passion  than  the  story  of  Virginius.  Virtu- 
ous strength  protecting  innocent  weakness— 
especially  when  the  image  of  strength  is  set 
in  the  crystal  of  artistic  form — presents  an 
ideal  that  must  always  command  human 
sympathy.  That  is  the  ideal  of  this  work 
and  that  is  its  perfect  charm.  McCullough 


HIS    GREATEST    ROLE  121 

meets  as  few  actors  can  ever  have  met,  the 
test  of  contact  with  this  ideal. 

"The  character  exacts  in  its  representa- 
tive, three  elemental  attributes,  simplicity, 
goodness  and  power.  The  nature  that  is  not 
clear  as  white  marble  and  at  the  same  time 
rich  in  spontaneous  goodness  and  intense 
with  feeling  that  flows  up  from  the  deep 
foundations  of  the  heart's  life,  will  go  to 
pieces  in  Virginius.  It  is  a  tragedy  which 
breaks  trivial  actors  as  a  rock  breaks  the 
assailing  wave.  Forrest,  who  was  mag- 
nificent in  the  humor  and  storm  of  the 
part,  fell  short  in  the  tenderness,  the  grace, 
and  in  the  forlorn  portions  of  the  de- 
lirium. McCullough  lacks  in  nothing.  The 
stately  form,  the  massive  ease  of  movement, 
the  leonine  repose,  the  rich  variety  of  vocal 
treatment,  the  air  of  innate  gentleness  and 
the  winning  manner — all  these  elements  are 
fused  in  his  embodiment  by  an  individuality 
which  is  virtue  itself,  and  not  virtue  in  drab 
commonplace,  but  robed  with  beauty  and 
burning  with  the  splendid  fires  of  hallowed 
passion. 

"  The  early  scenes  were  suffused  with  a 
charming  playfulness  and  a  touching  affec- 
tion. The  explosive  passage  in  the  camp 
scene  was  given  with  just  the  suppressed  and 


122  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

struggling  fury  that  such  a  father  as  Virginius 
might  feel.  The  arrival  home  was  so  perfect 
in  the  preservation  of  illusion,  that  a  kind  of 
hysterical  sob,  partly  of  joy  and  partly  of  ex- 
pectation, thrilled  through  the  house.  The 
immolation  of  Virginia  was  preceded  with 
such  truthfulness  of  suffering,  and  was  at- 
tended with  such  agony  and  delirium  as  made 
it  almost  unbearably  real.  And  in  the  mad 
scene,  the  actor  set  before  his  public  an  image 
of  laughing  madness  more  pitiable  than  words 
can  say.  The  effect  of  such  a  representation 
is  so  strong  upon  the  feelings  that  slow-moving 
thought  and  particular  specification  as  to  the 
method  of  it,  become  for  the  time  well-nigh 
impossible. 

Those  who  have  seen  it  are  not  likely  soon 
to  forget  the  sense  of  absolute  adequacy  with 
which  it  finds  its  way  into  their  whole-hearted 
acceptance.  Special  mention  might  be  made 
of  the  points  strong  or  subtle,  the  air  of  pre- 
sentiment with  which  the  lines  about  the 
coming  feast  are  so  beautifully  spoken,  the 
pathos  of  the  appeal  to  the  Roman  citizen, 
the  awful  transfiguration  of  passionate  agony, 
at  the  moment  of  the  sacrifice,  the  tones  in 
which  the  mad  father,  with  a  gleam  of  half 
extinguished  reason,  spoke  the  heart-breaking 
lines  about  the  mother's  having  herself  nursed 


HIS    GREATEST   ROLE  123 

her  child,  and  certain  forlorn  movements  of 
the  dazed  maniac  when  in  the  dungeon.  But 
the  completeness  of  the  work  is  what  most 
impresses,  and  we  shall  be  content  now  in 
recording  our  impressions  of  it,  to  name  it  as 
an  impersonation  which  in  these  days,  is  an 
astonishment  to  see,  and  which  in  any  days, 
it  would  be  an  honor  to  celebrate." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HIS  WIDE  TRAVELS. 

"  I'll  put  a  girdle  round   about  the  earth." 

— Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

McCullough  shared  the  usual  penalty  im- 
posed upon  the  popular  dramatic  artist — to 
roam  the  wide  world  o'er,  and  this  not  with 
the  ease  and  enjoyment  of  the  tourist,  who 
can  find  seclusion  and  refreshment  from  luxur- 
ious travel  at  every  inn.  The  itinerant  star 
pursues  a  life  that  must  renounce  all  joys  of 
home,  the  pleasure  of  occasional  withdrawal 
from  "the  madding  crowd,"  a  life  that  knows 
no  cessation  from  exacting  demands  upon 
every  energy  of  heart  and  brain,  no  release 
from  incessant  strain  upon  the  tension  and 
endurance  of  every  nerve.  He  is  always  on 
exhibition — the  cynosure  of  every  eye — the 
observed  of  all  observers,  the  butt  of  every 
critic.  As  he  makes  his  exit  from  one  scene 
of  excitement,  he  hurries  to  enter  upon  the 
same  life-consuming  turmoil,  in  another  field. 
One  cannot  wonder  that  the  professional 
career  is  usually  brief,  as  it  is  brilliant. 

So  back  and  forth,  from  East  to  West,  from 
North  to  South,  all  over  our  wide  country, 

124 


HIS    WIDE     TRAVELS  125 

traveled  our  gifted  friend.  Every  large  city 
on  the  continent  has  witnessed  his  triumphs. 
In  St.  Paul  and  New  Orleans,  in  all  the  great 
centres  of  human  life,  on  the  Atlantic  sea- 
board as  on  the  Pacific  slope,  and  throughout 
the  cities  of  the  middle  West,  notable  engage- 
ments were  played,  again  and  again.  To  sig- 
nalize any  or  all  of  these  were  needless  repeti- 
tion. His  admirers  were  legion,  an  ever- 
growing constituency.  His  name  is  still  loved 
and  revered  in  every  place  his  unwearied  feet 
have  trod. 

Even  in  Texas,  not  often  visited  by  prom- 
inent stars  in  those- days,  was  his  voice  heard; 
and  in  New  Orleans,  notable  engagements 
were  played,  until  he-  became  a  great  favorite 
in  the  Southern  Delta.  From  the  New 
Orleans  Picayune  of  February  12,  1879,  we 
quote:  "  All  the  good  things  that  have  been 
said  of  Mr.  McCullough  in  '  Virginius, '  and 
kindred  strong  plays,  are  well  deserved  by 
him.  He  is  a  student,  an  accomplished  actor 
and  a  man  capable  of  winning  people  to  him. 
His  efforts  on  the  stage  have  always  been 
made  in  the  best  direction  and  he  now  stands 
in  the  front  ranks  of  tragedians." 

John  Dimitry,  a  well-known  dramatic  critic 
for  Southern,  Philadelphia  and  New  York 


126  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

papers,  also  writes  in  the  Picayune  of  Febru- 
ary 22,  1879: 

' '  I  hold  it  to  be  a  good  augury  for  the  pres- 
entation of  the  highest  traditions  of  the  stage, 
when  such  an  actor  as  John  McCullough  should 
have  played  an  engagement  during  the  present 
season,  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  His 
triumphs  have  been  artistically  all  that  he 
merits.  His  name  has  been  full  in  the  mouths 
of  men  and  women  for  the  past  week.  .  .  . 
Apart  from  the  choice  of  characters,  whether 
it  be  Virginius,  Brutus,  Spartacus,  King  Lear  or 
Jack  Cade,  all  resemblance  to  Edwin  Forrest 
ceases,  to  whom  McCullough  has  too  fre- 
quently been  compared. 

"  Edwin  Forrest  had  majesty,  kingliness 
and  dignity.  In  fame  he  towered  above  his 
fellows.  In  a  profound  knowledge  of  the 
highest  masters  of  the  English  dramas,  he  knew 
among  us  no  rivals.  Among  our  brethren 
across  the  sea,  he  found  no  master.  In  a 
strong,  critical  and  scholarly  grasp  of  the 
Shakespearian  drama,  he  stands  with  Mac- 
ready,  without  equal.  Vast  in  body,  Forrest 
was  equally  vast  in  voice.  Miltonian  in  his 
muscles,  he  was  stentorian  in  speech.  Mr. 
McCullough,  equally  with  Forrest,  has  maj- 
esty, kingliness  and  dignity.  .  .  .  He  steps 


HIS   WIDE    TRAVELS  127 

on  our  American   stage   its  foremost  living 
figure." 

The  tragedian's  arrival  in  St.  Louis  on  one 
occasion,  transpired  just  after  a  duel  had 
been  fought  by  two  men  whom  he  knew,  in 
which  encounter  one  Alonzo  Slayback  had 
been  killed.  The  next  morning,  after  visiting 
the  survivor  at  his  temporary  inn — the  jail, 
McCullough  went  down  "  on  'change  "  and 
made  a  brief  speech,  reminding  the  assembled 
capitalists  that  it  was  no  time  for  recrimina- 
tion or  fault-finding.  Their  only  thought 
must  be  for  the  widow  and  children  of  the 
slain  man,  heading  a  subscription  for  their 
benefit  with  one  thousand  dollars.  Girard 
B.  Allen  gave  the  next  thousand  and  thus  a 
goodly  sum  was  raised  for  a  needy  woman, 
who  might  have  been  forgotten  in  the  excite- 
ment attending  the  affair,  had  not  McCul- 
lough's  ever  generous  thoughtfulness  provided 
for  her  relief. 

It  is  pleasant,  in  contrast  to  this  gruesome 
incident,  to  record  one  of  a  different  nature. 

The  household  of  his  friend,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Thompson,  was  expecting  a  ^little  visitor  from 
Paradise,  which  McCullough  was  quite  anxious 
should  bear  his  name.  At  a  later  date,  while 
playing  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  he  received  tidings 


128  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

of  the  arrival  of  a  daughter  upon  the  scene, 
whereupon  he  wired  promptly  "  Virginia 
McCullough  Thompson."  He  then  shortened 
his  Louisville  engagement  by  two  days,  jour- 
neyed to  St.  Louis,  and  held  the  helpless  little 
infant  in  his  great,  strong,  tender  arms  while 
it  was  christened  as  he  desired,  an  honored 
name,  which  this  favored  young  lady  still 
bears. 

An  interesting  episode  attended  one  of  his 
visits  in  Memphis,  Tenn.,  when  he  presented 
a  stand  of  colors  to  the  Chickasaw  Guards  of 
that  city,  an  organization  that  for  twenty-five 
years  scored  a  record  for  fine  drilling  which 
excelled  that  of  any  other  company  in  the 
United  States,  twelve  first  prizes  and  four 
second  prizes  having  been  won  in  competitive 
exhibitions.  Although  the  military  feature 
of-  this  body  has  been  now  relinquished,  it 
still  exists  as  the  "  Chickasaw  Guards  Club," 
holding  a  limited  membership  of  four  hun- 
dred, with  a  long  list  of  applicants  waiting  for 
vacancies. 

In  earlier  years,  McCullough  was  made  an 
honorary  member  of  the  "Guards, ' '  with  whom 
he  was  always  'an  esteemed  and  popular 
friend.  From  the  Memphis  Appeal,  of  March 
7,  1880,  we  quote  an  account  of  this  pleasing 
occasion: 


HIS   WIDE    TRAVELS  129 

"  Last  night  was  regular  drill  night  at  the 
Chickasaw  Guards  Armory,  and  there  were 
assembled  between  forty  and  fifty  members, 
to  whom  Captain  Carries  proceeded  to  give 
sufficient  exercise  to  remind  them  of  their 
camp  life  during  the  yellow  fever  epidemic. 
They  remained  late,  and  the  majority  could 
not  understand  why  the  drill  had  been  pro- 
tracted to  so  advanced  an  hour. 

"  Occasionally  the  officer  cast  a  glance 
toward  the  stairway,  as  if  expecting  some- 
body. At  last  carriage  wheels  were  heard, 
and  soon  afterward  Mr.  John  McCullough, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  S.  Davis, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  V.  Vredenburgh  and  Miss 
Effie  Rogers  of  Louisville,  entered  the  Armory. 
They  were  ushered  into  the  drill  room,  where, 
without  any  ceremony,  Mr.  McCullough,  who 
carried  in  his  hand  a  flag,  stepped  forward 
and  handed  it  to  Captain  Carnes,  and  then, 
in  an  equally  informal  manner,  he  began 
shaking  hands  with  the  boys. 

'  The  flag  is  of  fine,  heavy  silk,  and  of  large 
size,  with  an  ebony  staff,  surmounted  with  a 
gilt  eagle.  The  body  of  the  flag  contained 
the  following  inscription: 

'  Chickasaw    Guards,    Memphis,    from    their 
friend,.  John  McCullough. ' 


130  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

"  He  also  presented  them  with  two  'Markers' 
each  containing  the  monogram  *C.  G.' 

'  The  presentation  was  the  outgrowth  of 
the  strong  personal  friendship  which  has 
grown  up  between  the  distinguished  artist 
and  the  Guards,  within  the  past  two  years, 
during  their  meetings  both  at  home  and 
abroad.  Mr.  McCullough  desired  to  pay  the 
company  a  compliment  that  they  could  not 
fail  to  appreciate,  and  the  gratification  with 
which  the  flag  was  received  must  have  con- 
vinced him  that  nothing  could  have  been 
more  acceptable.  Following  the  handshaking 
was  an  introduction  of  a  huge  bowl  of  cham- 
pagne punch,  which  was  attacked  in  force. 
The  occasion  was  one  long  to  be  remembered." 

The  Memphis  Daily  Avalanche  of  similar 
date  records  the  close  of  this  engagement  in 
that  city  thus:  '  John  McCullough 's  engage- 
ment at  Genbries  Theatre  closed  in  a  triumph, 
at  least  as  far  as  the  manifestation  of  popular 
favor  is  concerned.  '  Virginius'  at  the  mati- 
nee was  greeted  with  a  jammed  house.  Last 
night  '  The  Gladiator  '  was  put  on  for  the 
finishing  touch;  and  its  presentation  was  an 
occasion  that  will  long  be  remembered  in  the 
annals  of  the  drama  in  Memphis.  The  Chick- 
asaw  Guards,  Mr.  McCullough 's  sworn  friends, 
had  taken  time  by  the  forelock,  and  captured 


HIS   WIDE    TRAVELS  131 

the  first  two  rows  of  the  dress  circle.  Then 
came  their  legion  of  friends  who  packed  the 
next  two  tiers,  and  finally  the  orphans  who 
belonged  to  nothing  and  cared  for  nothing, 
except  to  see  John  McCullough,  and  filled  the 
remaining  seats  in  the  dress  circle  and  par- 
quette.  Upstairs  the  crowd  was  just  as  great 
and  when  the  '  Gladiator  '  was  on,  just  'as 
enthusiastic.  On  the  right  of  the  stage  was 
hung  the  handsome  United  States  silk  flag 
presented  to  the  Chickasaw  Guards  by 
Mr.  McCullough.  On  the  left  the  flag  which 
the  company  had  borne  through  many  a 
coup  d'ceil,  with  not  a  single  defeat.  It  was 
a  sight  that  any  observer  would  be  compelled 
to  remember.  In  the  dress  circle  a  mass  of 
fair  ladies,  brilliant  uniformed  soldier  boys 
and  sober  citizens  in  gala  dress;  upstairs  a  mis- 
cellaneous crowd,  equally  appreciative." 

Earlier  in  the  week,  on  Thursday,  March 
4,  McCullough  had  given  a  special  matinee 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Irish  relief  movement. 
'  The  Honeymoon  "  was  presented,  with 
McCullough  as  Duke  Aranza  and  Kate  For- 
syth  as  Julien,  concluding  with  the  farce 
"  A  Conjugal  Lesson."  This  performance 
realized  a  handsome  sum  for  the  starving 
poor  of  Ireland. 

At  last,  in  the  summer  of  1880,  our  hero 


132  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

re-crossed  the  broad  Atlantic,  thirty-four 
years  after  the  young  lad  had  sought  to  earn 
a  living  on  the  strange  soil  of  America.  He 
visited  his  birthplace  at  Blakes,  where  he 
received  a  most  gratifying  ovation  from  the 
people,  and  he  never  thereafter  tired  of  telling 
of  the  quaint,  unaffected  way  in  which  those 
simple  country  folk  testified  their  admiration 
of  him,  and  he  often  said  this  visit  held  some 
of  the  happiest  days  of  his  life. 

In  London,  he  made  arrangements  for 
appearing  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre  for  six 
weeks,  the  following  spring  of  1881,  which 
later  visit  proved  a  most  successful  engage- 
ment. His  American  countrymen  who 
chanced  to  be  sojourning  in  the  city  eagerly 
did  him  honor,  and  he  speedily  won  the 
slower  English  admiration. 

Among  the  honors  showered  upon  him 
during  this  'season,  an  especially  pleasing 
incident  was  the  attention  shown  him  by  Sir 
Henry  Harvey  Bruce,  Lieutenant  of  the 
County  of  Londonderry,  Ireland,  a  son  of  that 
Sir  Hugh  Bruce,  who,  as  landlord  of  James 
McCullough's  small  estate,  had  evicted  him 
in  the  years  agone  for  non-payment  of  rent. 
It  is  possible  that  this  recreant  tenant's  boy 
had  often  stood,  cap  in  hand,  by  the  roadside, 
eclipsed  by  the  dust  which  the  Bruce  equipage 


HIS   WIDE    TRAVELS  133 

created,  as  it  rolled  by  him,  while  deferentially 
bowing  to  the  rich  lord,  but  the  mills  of  the 
gods  grind  "  exceeding  fine/'and  in  April,  1881, 
McCullough,  the  great  tragedian,  possessed 
of  a  wealth  not  measured  by  lands  or  titles, 
was  given  a  dinner  by  Sir  Henry  Harvey 
Bruce,  at  his  home  in  Portland  Square,  and 
later,  in  re- visiting  the  scenes  of  his  childhood 
he  was  .entertained  at  the  Bruce  Castle  and 
was  again  honored  by  those  who  in  earlier 
days  had  known  him  and  his  worthy  family. 

Such  an  episode  brings  a  thrill  to  the  heart 
which  is  more  than  delight  in  the  merited 
honor  accorded  to  a  favorite  friend,  it  is  a 
keen  gratification  to  the  lover  of  justice,  when 
the  sometimes  too  tardy  manifestation  of 
that  divine  law,  finds,  even  to  human  im- 
patience, its  late  unerring  fulfilment. 

A  grand  reception  was  accorded  to  Mc- 
Cullough while  in  London,  by  the  Duke  of 
Manchester,  which  the  Prince  and  Princess 
of  Wales  honored  by  their  presence,  as  well 
as  many  of  the  nobility,  who  were  thus  like- 
wise honored  in  meeting  one  of  Nature's 
uncrowned  noblemen. 

During  the  evening,  the  Prince,  now  King 
Edward  VII,  requested  McCullough  to  recite 
something.  The  actor  feeling  a  little  dis- 
mayed in  the  presence  of  such  titled  nobility, 


134  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

or  uncertain  regarding  a  suitable  selection, 
turned  to  W.  J.  Florence  who  was  present  and 
asked  him  how  he  should  get  out  of  it.  The 
comedian  advised  him  to  recite,  "  The  Little 
Hero  "  by  Arthur  Mattison,  reminding  him 
that  as  the  request  came  from  the  Prince,  it 
must  be  considered  as  a  command.  Mc- 
Cullough  then  recited  the  poem  with  great 
effect,  bringing  tears  to  many  eyes.  The 
Princess  of  Wales  who,  during  the  recital,  was 
sitting  by  the  piano,  rose  at  its  conclusion  and 
crossing  the  room,  approached  McCullough, 
shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  said  with 
tear-filled  eyes: 

'  You  have  touched  me  deeply.  You  have 
reminded  me  of  my  two  darling  boys  who  have 
just  gone  to  sea.." 

This  royal  compliment  pleased  the  artist 
very  much  and  often  thereafter  he  referred  to 
it. 

On  his  return  to  America  in  August,  1881, 
he  stated: 

'  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  my  ex- 
perience in  England,  except  what  is  delightful. 
I  was  exceedingly  gratified  with  my  reception 
by  the  London  press  and  people,  and  my 
associations  with  the  English  actors  have  been 
peculiarly  gratifying.  I  never  enjoyed  any- 
thing in  my  life  more  than  I  have  this  summer. 


HIS   WIDE    TRAVELS  135 

I  never  received  so  many  marks  of  kindness 
from  the  profession  in  my  life  as  I  did  on 
leaving  London,  letters  and  telegrams  bidding 
me  God-speed  and  wishing  me  well." 

His  own  genial  attractiveness  was  invinci- 
ble everywhere,  a  fact  his  modesty  did  not 
consider. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  this  country,  he 
visited  Yellowstone  Park,  in  company  with 
General  Sheridan,  Generals  Anson  and  Slayer, 
and  Colonel  Gregory,  a  trip  which,  from  his 
keen  love  of  nature,  afforded  him  great 
enjoyment. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FOUR  NOTABLE  BANQUETS. 

"  No  star  shines  brighter  than  the  kingly  man, 
Who  nobly  earns  whatever  crown  he  wears, 
Who  as  grandly  conquers  or  as  grandly  dies; 
And  the  white  banner  of  his  manhood  bears, 
Through  all  the  years  uplifted  to  the  skies  !" 

— Mrs.  J.  C.  R.  Dorr. 

In  both  his  personal  and  professional 
capacity,  McCullough  was  repeatedly  the  re- 
cipient of  public  honors,  of  receptions,  dinners 
and  complimentary  feasts  of  varied  form. 
But  four  of  these  tributes  deserve  especial 
mention.  The  earliest  occurred  at  St.  Louis 
where,  as  his  friend  Mr.  Thompson  has  re- 
cently testified,  "  He  was  worshipped  here  by 
everyone  who  knew  him,"  and  it  took  the 
form  of  a  banquet  at  the  Southern  Hotel, 
which  the  press  of  that  day  characterized  as 
' '  An  ovation  worthy  of  an  Emperor. ' '  From 
the  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat  of  March  14th, 
1877,  we  quote: 

"  McCullough,  whob^  successful  presenta- 
tion of  the  creations  of  the  master  playwrights 
came  to  an  enthusiastic  close  on  Saturday 
night,  was  last  evening  the  recipient  of  a 
social  reception  at  the  hands  of  a  coterie  of  his 

136 


FOUR    NOTABLE  BANQUETS  137 

warmest  admirers.  A  banquet  at  the  South- 
ern Hotel  was  the  vehicle  chosen  for  the 
demonstration  of  the  admiration  held  for  him 
as  a  player  and  the  esteem  with  which  he  is 
regarded  as  a  gentleman.  The  affair  was 
most  elegant  in  its  details  and  successful  in 
its  execution.  The  ladies'  parlor  of  this  ele- 
gant hostlery  was  chosen  as  the  theatre  of  this 
episode,  which  should  ever  remain  with  a 
sunshiny  freshness,  in  the  memory  of  the 
distinguished  recipient. 

"  Shortly  before  ten  o'clock,  the  party,  who 
had  spent  a  pleasant  social  interval,  were 
ushered  into  the  banquet  hall  and  seated.  At 
each  guest's  plate  was  placed  a  handsome 
bouquet  and  a  memorial  bill  of  fare,  executed 
upon  tinted  satin  in  the  highest  style  of 
typographical  art,  by  Compton.  It  was  in 
folio  form.  One  page  contained  the  menu; 
occupying  the  centre  of  the  opposite  page 
was  an  elegant  steel-plate  portrait  of  Mc- 
Cullough,  taken  from  a  photograph  by  Schol- 
len.  Arranged  about  this  were  the  names  of 
the  fifty  gentlemen  tendering  the  reception. 
On  an  outside  page  were  printed  the  following 
lines  suggestive  of  the  three  appearances  of 
John  McCullough  in  St.  Louis,  and  expressive 
of  his  reception. 


138  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

SEPTEMBER    1873. 
Untried  and  new  we  saw  thy  rising  star 

And  hailed  the  brightness  of  its  early  rays; 
The  light  discerned,  the  promise  from  afar, 

Greeting  its  glimmer  through  the  morning  haze. 

JANUARY    1875. 
Brighter  it  grew  as  we  beheld  it  rise, 

Foretelling  all  the  greatness  that  should  be, 
And  watched  its  progress  with  our  partial  eyes, 

Assured  that  it  must  rule  the  galaxy. 

MARCH    1877. 
Full-orbed  and  brilliant  now  thy  glories  shine, 

Illuming  all  the  Drama's  wide  expanse; 
Thou  hast  thy  place  secured — the  zenith  thine — 

The  whole  world's  space  included  in  thy  glance. 

The  title  page  showed  a  very  handsomely 
arranged  vignette  with  the  legend  tastefully 
displayed 

COMPLIMENTARY  TO  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 
SOUTHERN  HOTEL,  ST.  LOUIS. 

"  The  art  of  Col.  C.  M.  Ellsard  had  trans- 
formed the  spacious  apartment  into  a  very 
bower  of  floral  delights.  The  utmost  resour- 
ces of  the  horticulturist  were  brought  into 
requisition  and  the  decoration  in  point  of 
beauty  and  taste  was  seldom  if  ever  exceeded 
in  the  West,  on  an  occasion  of  this  nature. 

'  The  menu,  embracing  as  it  did  the  luxu- 
ries and  delicacies  of  the  four  quarters  of  the 
globe,  was  a  feature  of  the  occasion  and  the 


FOUR    NOTABLE   BANQUETS  139 

delicate  viands  being  assisted  in  their  dis- 
appearance by  the  use  of  the  sparkling 
beverage  of  sunny  France,  threw  a  gleam  of 
geniality  and  good-fellowship  over  the  assem- 
blage, which  manifested  itself  in  the  happi- 
ness of  the  remarks  and  addresses  that 
obtained  when  the  gastronomic  part  had  re- 
ceived attention. 

"The  tragedian  at  whom  the  tribute  was 
directed  occupied  the  place  of  honor  at  the 
head  of  the  table.  At  his  right  hand,  as 
president  and  toast-master,  sat  J.  B.  Mc- 
Cullagh  of  the  Globe- Democrat.  The  last- 
named  gentleman  called  the  assemblage  to 
order,  and  after  detailing  the  nature  of  the 
gathering,  introduced  with  remarks  of  en- 
comium, John  McCullough,  and  proposed  the 
toast,  '  John  McCullough,  the  actor  and  the 
man.'" 

"  That  gentleman  in  response  said:  '  Mr. 
Addison,  the  great  English  essayist,  was  once 
asked  why  it  was  that  one  who  wrote  so  well 
and  so  fluently  could  play  so  poor  a  figure  as , 
he  always  did  in  a  social  conversation,  or  a 
dinner  table  speech.  He  replied,  very  wittily 
and  pertinently,  that  a  man  might  have  a 
thousand  pounds  in  bank,  and  yet  not  have  a 
shilling  in  his  pocket.  And  so  I  feel  to-night, 
in  this  presence,  when  asked  to  respond  to 


140  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

the  toast  of  your  chairman.  The  profession 
to  which  I  have  devoted  my  life  teaches  me 
to  keep  all  my  funds  of  speech  in  bank,  and 
an  occasion  of  this  kind  finds  me  without  a 
single  shilling  of  ready  money  of  conversation 
in  my  pocket. 

'  The  compliment  of  the  evening  touches 
me  to  the  heart  and  excites  within  me  feelings 
which  no  words  of  mine  could  fittingly  trans- 
late. The  life  of  an  actor  is  an  exceedingly 
hard  one.  The  road  to  success  is  steep  and 
thorny,  and  even  many  of  those  who  attain 
the  goal  after  the  arduous  struggle,  without 
which  it  is  never  reached,  would  be  unwilling 
to  duplicate  their  experience.  My  own  per- 
sonal history  is  familiar  to  most  of  you,  I 
believe.  It  is  that  of  a  poor  boy,  with  per- 
haps more  of  fancy  than  of  fitness  for  the 
stage,  commencing  at  the-  lowest  round  of  the 
ladder  and  determined  to  exhaust  all  the 
resources  of  a  young  and  ardent  nature  before 
stopping  short  this  side  of  at  least  a  moderate 
degree  of  success. 

'  'An  occasion  of  this  kind  may  well  be  called 
one  of  the  richest  compensations  for  the  labor 
of  life  -in  any  profession.  To  be  thus  honored 
is  to  be  amply  repaid  for  many  of  the  ex- 
periences where  fortune  had  more  of  buffets 
than  rewards.  Nor  is  this  the  first  time  that 


FOUR    NOTABLE   BANQUETS  141 

I  have  been  made  debtor  for  honors  and  hos- 
pitalities, in  this  city.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  warmth  and  cordiality  with  which  I  was 
welcomed  in  St.  Louis,  on  what  I  may  call 
my  first  professional  visit,  a  little  more  than 
three  years  ago.  What  success  I  have  met 
with  since  has  been  in  no  small  degree  due  to 
the  friendly  greeting  then  extended,  and  the 
cheering  words  and  kind  encouragement  with 
which  all  my  efforts  on  the  stage  were  received. 
And  as  each  succeeding  year  has  called  me 
among  you,  I  have  found  the  welcome  to 
increase  and  the  evidence  of  your  kindness  to 
multiply.  To  record  them  all  would  be  as 
impossible  to  my  tongue,  as  to  forget  them 
would  be  impossible  to  my  heart. 

"  '  Friends,  one  and  all,  I  thank  you.  ' 

'  The  conclusion  of  the  remarks  was  greeted 
with  prolonged  applause. 

'  Then  followed  the  ;  feast  of  reason  and 
flow  of  soul  '  that  can  occur  only  at  such  a 
gathering.  Speeches  were  made  by  Col.  Dyer, 
Joseph  Pulitzer,  and  many  others.  The  senti- 
ments and  responses  were  pleasantly  inter- 
larded with  the  highly  appreciated  vocal 
efforts  of  the  gentlemen  present.  The  enjoy- 
ment continued  into  the  small  hours,  and  it 
was  with  regret  to  have  a  scene  so  full  of  the 
elements  that  take  the  sting  from  the  briars 


142 

of  this  work-a-day  world,  close,  that  the 
'  Goodnight,  Godbless  you  '  was  given,  and 
the  occasion  died  away  as  a  pleasant  and 
delightful  memory. ' 

During  the  evening,  congratulatory  tele- 
grams, all  happy  and  characteristic  in  their 
wording,  addressed  to  the  friend  and  fellow 
artist,  .were  received  from  Edwin  Adams, 
Lawrence  Barrett,  Lilian  Adelaide  Neilson, 
W.  J.  Florence,  Edwin  Booth,  William  Winter, 
and  W.  M.  Conner. 

The  Knights  of  St.  Patrick  of  St.  Louis 
contributed  their  mite  to  the  wealth  of  honor 
being  paid  the  eminent  tragedian,  by  sending 
a  handsomely  printed  sheet  which  contained 
under  the  official  seal  of  the  society,  the 
following  lines: 

SALVE  ET  VALE  ! 

All  hail  to  the  Actor  whose  genius  sublime 
Interprets  the  Poet  who  wrote  for  all  time; 
While  Hamlet,  Othello  and  Lear,  the  discrowned, 
Make  the  stage  with  the  woes  of  the  Drama  resound, 
The  name  of  McCullough  shall  blend  with  the  strain 
And  never  shall  history  rend  them  in  twain. 

From  Knights  of  St.  Patrick  to  John  McCullough, 
tragedian. 

While  the  recipient  of  many  minor  enter- 
tainments, the  next  large  banquet  was  ten- 
dered the  great  artist  by  the  Lotus  Club  of 


FOUR    NOTABLE    BANQUETS  143 

New  York,  an  account  of  which  we  quote  from 
the  Tribune  of  February  11,  1878: 

"  A  pleasant  festival  occurred  on  Saturday 
evening  at  the  Lotus  Club,  when  the  eminent 
tragedian,  Mr.  John  McCullough,  was  enter- 
tained at  a  banquet  formally  made  in  his 
honor.  The  company  numbered  upwards  of 
seventy-five  gentlemen.  The  spacious  club 
parlors  were  beautifully  decorated  with  flowers 
and  green  vines.  Mr.  Noah  Brooks,  vice- 
president  of  the  club,  occupied  the  chair  in 
the  absence  of  the  president,  Mr.  Brougham, 
who  is  still  unable  to  come  abroad. 

«"  The  after-dinner  exercises  were  more  than 
commonly  brilliant.  Mr.  Brooks  made  a 
cordial  and  graceful  speech  of  welcome  to 
the  tragedian,  and  Mr.  McCullough  briefly 
responded  in  one  of  his  frank  and  modest 
speeches,  for  which  he  is  noted.  Mr.  William 
Winter,  responding  to  the  toast '  The  Drama, ' 
paid  an  earnest  tribute  to  the  simple,  manly 
character,  the  broad  and  generous  mind  and 
the  bright  career  of  Mr.  McCullough,  whom, 
he  said,  he  had  known  as  an  artist  for  sixteen 
years,  whose  genius  he  had  long  ago  asserted, 
and  whose  eminence  he  had  foretold.  Al- 
though Mr.  Winter  began  with  the  remark 
that  '  Noah  might  plant  and  Appolinaris 
might  water,  there  was  no  speech  to  be  got 


144  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

out  of  him,'  he  yet  made  an  address  of  con- 
siderable length,  dwelling  on  the  grand  and 
beautiful  realms  of  the  art  world,  wherein  the 
actor  lives,  and  into  which  he  leads  his  sym- 
pathizing admirers.  This  speech  expressed 
a  very  high  estimate  of  McCullough's  genius 
and  achievements,  his  profound  and  unaf- 
fected devotion  to  art,  and  his  freedom  from 
all  petty  jealousies  by  which,  in  its  selfish 
quest  for  admiration,  the  theatrical  character 
is  so  often  deformed. 

"  Mr.  Winter's  remarks  were  received  with 
great  enthusiasm  and  several  humorous  anec- 
dotes which  he  introduced,  occasioned  the 
heartiest  laughter.  Mr.  Oakey  Hall  made  an 
amusing  speech,  in  which  he  classified  the 
different  orders  of  theatrical  artists  according 
to  the  various  mineral  waters;  his  ingenious 
wit  was  much  enjoyed.  Speeches  were  also 
made  by  Isaac  H.  Bromley,  who  kept  the 
tables  in  a  roar  for  fifteen  minutes,  Mr.  A.  P. 
Burbank,  Dr.  McDonald  and  other  gentlemen. 

Mr.  McCullough  proceeded  on  the  night 
train  to  Boston  where  he  will  this  evening 
begin  an  engagement  at  the  Boston  Theatre, 
acting  'Coriolanus. '  The  tragedy  is  to  be 
revived  with  great  splendor." 

In  December  of  the  same  year,  a  galaxy  of 
notable  men  assembled  in  Washington,  united 


FOUR    NOTABLE   BANQUETS  145 

in  a  flattering  testimonial  to  their  favorite 
actor.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  speeches 
made  on  this  occasion  by  General  Sherman, 
Hon.  James  G.  Elaine  and  others,  were  not 
preserved.  Only  a  meagre  report  of  the  bril- 
liant affair  is  found  in  the  Evening  Star  of 
December  9,  1878. 

"  Perhaps  for  the  reason  that  it  was  man- 
aged by  newspaper  men,  the  complimentary 
banquet  to  John  McCullough  at  Willard's  on 
Saturday  night  was  an  exceptionally  bright 
and  enjoyable  affair,  in  which  the  good  things 
supplied  by  Breslin  and  the  good  things  said 
at  the  table,  were  all  in  a  concatenation  accord- 
ing. 

"  Aside  from  the  speeches  complimentary 
to  Mr.  McCullough,  as  an  actor  and  a  gentle- 
man, the  very  presence  of  such  a  company, 
embracing  so  many  men  of  distinction  to  do 
him  honor,  was  the  highest  kind  of  tribute  to 
his  merits.  Among  those  present  were  Gen- 
eral Sherman,  Justice  Miller  of  the  United 
States  Supreme  Court,  Secretary  Sherman, 
Senators  Elaine,  Gordon,  Conover  and  Arm- 
strong, Representatives  Blackburn,  Clark  of 
Missouri,  Paige,  Frost,  Kurd,  Stenger  and 
others;  Governor  Shepard,  I.  N.  Burritt,  Jesse 
Brown,  George  B.  Corkhill,  Stillson  Hutchins, 
John  T.  Ford,  J.  H.  Raymond,  John  A.  Cock- 


146  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

erill,  editor  of  the  Baltimore  Gazette,  J.  B. 
Martin,  Dr.  R.  B.  Bradford,  George  Douglass, 
W.  B.  Shaw,  Clarence  M.  Barton,  Mr.  Palmer, 
editor  of  the  Boston  Globe,  Page  McCarthy, 
W.  P.  Copeland,  Crosby  S.  Noyes,  Walter 
Hutchins,  W.  H.  Clark,  Hallet  Kilbourn,  James 
Christie,  Col.  E.  C.  Boudinot,  Col.  Rogers, 
William  Dickson,  S.  S.  Huntley,  James  Hager- 
man,  William  M.  Conner  and  Joseph  K. 
Rickey. 

'  The  speech-making  was  uncommonly 
good,  bright,  crisp  and  felicitously  apropos. 
Mr.  James  G.  Blaine,  unrivalled  in  off-hand 
efforts  of  this  sort,  was  admirably  seconded  by 
General  Sherman,  (who  presided),  Mr.  Black- 
burn of  Kentucky,  Senator  Gordon,  Justice 
Miller,  Secretary  Sherman,  Mr.  John  T.  Ford, 
Mr.  Stillson  Hutchins,  Governor  Shepard,  Mr. 
George  B.  Corkhill,  Senator  Armstrong,  Mr. 
Clark  of  Missouri,  Mr.  Paige  of  California,  and 
others. 

'  The  response  by  Mr.  McCullough  to  the 
complimentary  things  said  of  him  was  in 
excellent  taste,  and  showed  him  to  have  a 
fine  mind,  of  no  little  cultivation.  The  songs 
contributed  by  Col.  E.  C.  Boudinot  and  Col. 
Rogers  served  to  fill  out  the  enjoyments  of  the 
evening  quite  completely." 


FOUR    NOTABLE   BANQUETS  147 

Again  on  the  occasion  of  McCullough's 
approaching  departure  to  fill  his  first  pro- 
fessional engagement  in  England,  in  the 
spring  of  1881,  did  his  friends  try  to  manifest 
the  high  esteem  and  admiration  in  which  he 
was  held,  by  a  banquet  in  New  York  at  Del- 
monico  's  to  bid  him  a  hearty  God-speed.  The 
Tribune  of  April  5th  recounts  this  festivity 
thus: 

"  A  farewell  dinner  was  given  at  Del- 
monico's  last  evening  to  John  McCullough, 
the  tragedian,  prior  to  his  departure  for 
England.  The  dinner  was  proposed  and 
arranged  by  a  number  of  Mr.  McCullough's 
oldest  and  most  valued  friends,  and  was 
intended  as  an  expression  of  their  regard. 
The  actor  though  for  a  long  time  identified 
with  California  theatres,  having  been  a 
manager  in  San  Francisco,  has  many  friends 
in  this  city,  who  esteem  him  highly,  and  he 
is  known  to  the  theatrical  profession  as  one 
of  the  most  popular  men  in  it. 

'  The  dinner  last  night  was  not'  intended 
in  any  sense  to  be  a  public  affair,  and  for  this 
reason  the  number  of  guests  was  not  permitted 
to  be  large.  The  persons  present  beside  the 
guest  of  the  evening,  were  Noah  Brooks,  who 
acted  as  chairman,  William  Winter,  George 
Fawcett  Rowe,  John  Russell  Young,  Judge 


148  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

J.  R.  Brady,  Algernon  S.  Sullivan,  Judge 
Cowing,  Chas.  Eytinge,  Henry  Edwards,  Locke 
Richardson,  George  Edgar  Montgomery, 
Clinton  W.  Stuart,  John  T.  Raymond,  E.  A. 
Buck,  Alfred  Wilkinson,  Judge  Benedick,  T. 
Henry  French,  ex-Gov.  Latham  of  California, 
Albert  E.  Bierstadt,  J.  C.  Clarke,  Dr.  Mont- 
rose  A.  Pullen,  J.  H.  McVicker,  E.  H.  Vander- 
hoff,  Frederick  Gould,  E.  J.  Buckley,  John 
Hoey  and  Lester  Wallack. 

'  The  "table  was  handsomely  decorated 
with  flowers  and  a  picture  of  McCullough  as 
Virginius,  hung  upon  one  side  of  the  room, 
draped  with  American  flags.  A  band  of  music 
led  by  Adolph  Bernstein  entertained  those 
present  while  the  dinner  was  in  progress.  Mr. 
Brooks,  acting  as  chairman,  proposed  the 
tragedian's  health  in  a  brief  speech  in  which 
he  referred  to  Mr.  McCullough 's  connection 
with  California  theatres  and  to  his  own  ac- 
quaintance with  the  actor  while  there.  The 
speaker  touched  upon  the  actor's  great  geni- 
ality and  said  that  neither  that  room  nor 
any  hall  in  the  city  was  large  enough  to  hold 
all  his  friends.  A.  S.  Sullivan  suggested  to 
the  speaker  that  the  actor's  heart  was  large 
enough  for  them  all,  and  Mr.  Brooks  agreed 
with  him,  amid  much  applause. 

"  Mr.    McCullough   replied   briefly,    saying 


FOUR    NOTABLE  BANQUETS  149 

that  he  was  not  a  speech-maker.  He  appreci- 
ated most  heartily  the  compliment  paid  him 
by  those  who  had  given  him  this  dinner.  He 
was  going  to  England  as  an  experiment.  He 
hoped  to  do  some  credit  there  to  the  highly 
flattering  opinions  of  him  by  his  friends  of 
America. 

"  Ex-Gov.  Latham  of  California  referred  to 
his  acquaintance  with  McCullough,  during 
early  manhood,  and  to  his  first  struggles  for 
fame  in  California,  when  he  came  forward  as 
a  manager  in  San  Francisco.  Algernon  S. 
Sullivan  who  was  the  next  speaker,  referred  in 
very  earnest  terms  to  the  actor's  kindly  in- 
fluence in  New  York  and  his  great  faculty  of 
making  friends.  He  said  that  McCullough 
was  a  man  possessed  of  great  nobility  of  soul. 
John  Russell  Young  told  some  incidents  of 
his  acquaintance  with  the  actor  in  Philadel- 
phia, when  he  was  a  boy. 

'  William  Winter  paid  an  earnest  tribute 
to  the  good  qualities  of  the  man  and  the  artist, 
and  also  read  the  following  poem. 

Long  hushed  is  the  harp  that  his  glory  had  spoken,* 
Long  stilled  is  the  heart  that  could  summon  its 
strain; 

Now  its  cords  are  all  silent,  or  tuneless,  or  broken, 
What  touch  can  awaken  its  music  again? 

*The  allusion  is  to  the  great  poet  of  McCullough's  native  land,  Thomas 
Moore. 


150  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Ah,  the  breeze  in  the  green  dells  of  Erin  is  blowing  ! 

If  not  her  great  bard,  yet  her  spirit  can  flame, 
When  proud  where  the  waters  of  Shannon  are  flowing 

Her  groves  and  her  temples  re-echo  his  name. 

Float  softly  o'er  shamrocks,  and  bluebells,  and  roses, 
Blend  all  their  gay  tints  and  their  odors  in  one; 

And  sweet  as  the  zephyr  in  twilight  that  closes 
Be  the  kiss  of  thy  love  on  the  brows  of  thy  son  ! 

Breathe  tenderly  o'er  us,  who  cluster  around  him, 
In  this,  his  glad  moment  of  triumph  and  pride; 

Deep,  deep  in  our  souls  are  the  ties  that  have  bound 

him, 
And  life  will  be  lone  with  his  presence  denied. 

From  the  arms  of  the  mother,  in  childhood  a  rover, 
To  exile  he  came,  on  the  wanderer's  shore; 

To  the  arms  of  his  mother,  his  trials  all  over, 

And  honored  and  laurelled,  we  yield  him  once  more. 

Speak  low  of  affection  that  longs  to  embrace  him, 
Speak  loud  of  the  fame  that  awaits  him  afar — 

When  homage  shall  hail  him,  and  beauty  shall  grace 

him, 
And  pomp  hang  her  wreaths  on  the  conqueror's  car  ! 

When  the  shadows  of  time  at  his  touch  fall  asunder, 
And  heroes  and  demi-gods  leap  into  light; 

When  the  accents  of  Brutus  ring  wild  in  the  thunder, 
And  the  white  locks  of  Lear  toss  like  sea-foam  in 
night; 

When  the  grief  of  the  Moor,  like  a  tempest  that  dashes 
On  crags  in  mid-ocean,  has  died  into  rest; 

When  the  heart  of  Virginius  breaks,  o'er  the  ashes 
Of  her  who  was  sweetest,  and  purest,  and  best; 


FOUR    NOTABLE  BANQUETS  151 

How  proudly,  how  gladly  their  praise  will  caress  him! 

How  brightly  the  jewels  will  blaze  in  his  crown! 
How  the  white  hands  of  honor  will  greet  him  and 
bless  him 

With  lilies  and  roses  of  perfect  renown! 

Ah,  grand  is  the  flight  of  the  eagle  of  morning, 

While  the  dark  world  beneath  him  drifts  into  the 
deep ; 

But  cold  as  the  snow-wreaths  the  mountains  adorning 
Is  the  light  that  illumines  his  desolate  sweep. 

When  the  trumpets  are  blown  and  the  standards  are 
streaming, 

And  the  festal  lamps  beam  on  the  royal  array, 
How  oft  will  the  heart  of  the  monarch  be  dreaming 

Of  the  home  and  the  friends  that  are  far,  far  away  ! 

There's  a  pulse  in  his  breast  that  would  always  regret 

us — 

It  dances  in  laughter,  it  trembles  in  tears; 
With  the  world  at  his  feet  he  would  never  forget  us, 
And  our  hearts  would  be  true,  through  an  aeon  of 
years  ! 

The  symbols  may  clash  and  the  gay  pennons  glisten, 
And  the  clangor  of  gladness  ring  jocund  and  free, 

But,  calm  in  the  tumult,  his  spirit  will  listen 
For  our  whisper  of  love  floating  over  the  sea; 

For  the  music  of  tones  that  were  once  so  endearing 
(Like  a  wind  of  the  west  o'er  a  prairie  of  flowers), 

But  that  never  again  will  resound  in  his  hearing, 
Except  through  the  tremulous  sadness  of  ours. 


152  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

Ah,  manly  and  tender,  thy  deeds  are  thy  praises  ! 

Speed  on  in  thy  grandeur,  all  peerless  and  lone, 
And  greet,  in  old  England,  her  hawthorns  and  daisies, 

A  spirit  as  gentle  and  bright  as  their  own  ! 

Speed  on,  wheresoever  God's  angels  may  guide  thee  ! 

No  fancy  can  dream  and  no  language  can  tell 
What  faith  and  what  blessings  walk  ever  beside  thee, 

Or  the  depth  of  our  love  as  we  bid  thee  Farewell. 

"  John  T.  Raymond  spoke  next.  He  said 
that  a  great  many  American  actors  went  to 
London  to'  get  reputation;  they  did  not  ex- 
pect to  make  money,  and  they  were  not  dis- 
appointed. He  hoped  that  McCullough  would 
be  an  exception  to  this  rule.  If  he  made  as 
great  a  success  in  London  professionally,  as  he 
had  made  socially,  during  his  last  visit,  his 
friends  would  have  no  cause  for  disappoint- 
ment. Locke  Richardson  described  McCul- 
lough's  genial  qualities.  Henry  Edwards  of 
Wallack's  Theatre  spoke  feelingly  of  the  time 
when  he  was  under  McCullough 's  management 
in  San  Francisco.  He  could  speak  for  every 
one  of  the  tragedian's  old  company,  he  de- 
clared, when  he  said  '  God  bless  John  Mc- 
Cullough.' 

"  Judge  Cowing  also  spoke  in  eulogistic 
terms  of  the  actor  and  the  man.  The  speak- 
ing lasted  till  a  late  hour." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  SKETCH  FROM  HIS  PEN. 

• 

"  Beneath  the  rule  of  men  entirely  great 
The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword." 

— Richelieu. 

Although  McCullough  possessed  a  some- 
what inflexible  hand,  so  that  writing  was  a 
laborious  task  for  him,  and  dictation  in  his 
day  had  not  reached  its  present  prominent 
usefulness,  he  still  wrote  occasional  sketches 
and  "even  a  few  poems,  of  which  he  never 
made  any  use,  although  his  friends  would 
occasionally  gather  them  up  and  send  them 
to  some  periodical,  but  all  are  now  lost  to 
sight  save  the  following  fugitive  story,  prob- 
ably not  the  most  meritorious  that  might  be 
selected. 

It  would  be  expected  that  such  a  walking 
Shakespearian  encyclopaedia  as  •  McCullough 
was  would  make  plentiful  use  of  dramatic 
quotations.  In  fact  his  conversation  bubbled 
over  with  such  beautiful  expressions,  he  lived 
so  constantly  in  the  world  of  art. 

The  following  sketch  was  printed  in  the 
New  York  Mirror  of  November  9,  1885: 

153 


1^4  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

A  TRUE  STORY  OF  FALSE  LOVE. 
By  John  McCullough. 

Sou  vent  femme  varie, 
Bien  fol  qui  s'y  fie. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  story  with  nothing 
new  in  it,  for  it  is  a  tale  of  man's  love  and 
woman's  treachery,  and  that  is  an  old,  old 
story,  old  as  the  everlasting  hills.  Has  not 
the  great  master  of  the  mind,  Shakespeare, 
shown  us  the  Queen  of  Denmark  turning  her 
fickle  eyes  away  from 

"  Hyperion's  curls;  the  front  of  Jove  himself; 
An  eye  like  Mars,  to  threaten  or  command; 
A  station  like  the  herald  Mercury 
New  lighted  on  a  Heaven-kissing  hill; 
A  combination  and  a  form,  indeed, 
Where  every  god  did  seem  to  set  his  seal 
To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man," 

to  abase  them  upon 

"A  mildewed  ear, 
Blasting  his  wholesome  brother — 
A  slave  that  is  not  twentieth  part  the  tithe 
Of  your  precedent  lord — a  vice  of  kings, 
A  cut-purse  of  the  empire  and  the  rule — 
A  king  of  shreds  and  patches." 

Has  he  not  pictured  the  fair  but  frail  Lady 
Anne,  forgetting  her  young  husband,  Edward, 
for  his  murderer,  who,  in  blank  astonishment 
at  his  own  success,  wonders  that  she  could 
forsake  one  than  whom 


A    SKETCH   FROM    HIS    PEN  155 

"A  sweeter  and  a  lovelier  gentleman, 
Framed  in  the  prodigality  of  nature, 
Young,  valiant,  wise  and,  no  doubt,  right  royal, 
The  spacious  world  cannot  again  afford; 
And  will  she  yet  abase  her  eyes  on  me; 
On  me  whose  all  not  equals  Edward's  moiety; 
On  me  that  halt  and  am  misshapen  thus?" 

True  we  have  also  the  fair  Ophelia, 

"  Of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched, 
That  sucked  the  honey  of  his  music  vows," 

and  who,  for  the  love  of  Hamlet,  "wilfully 
sought  her  own  salvation."  We  know  of  the 
gentle  Juliet,  who,  for  love,  dared  the  horrors  of 
the  charnel  house,  and,  for  love,  died  in  very 
truth — sheathing  her  Romeo's  dagger  in  her 
faithful  heart.  We  read  of  Imogene,  offering 
her  life  to  Posthumus'  unjust  command,  and 
we  do  not  deny  that  there  are  women  who  are 
true  as  needle  to  the  pole,  but,  nevertheless, 
wise  men  of  all  ages  have  crystalized  woman's 
inconstancy  into  proverb,  and  condensed  fem- 
inine insincerity  and  readiness  to  barter  their 
beauty  for  gold,  into  axiom.  How  often  do 
we  see  a  lovely  girl  sell  herself  to  a  deformed 
Satyr  for  money  or  rank — nay,  even  the  bribe 
of  fine  clothes  and  a  few  gaudy  trinkets  will 
outweigh  the  love  of  an  honest  heart,  the 
pledge  of  an  honest  hand.  The  story  I  am 
going  to  relate  is  an  example  of  this,  and 
without  further  prologue  I  will  tell  my  tale, 


156  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

merely  adding  that  it  is  all  true,  absolutely 
true — a  tale  in  which  "  I  do  nothing  extenuate 
nor  set  down  aught  in  malice,"  but  simply 
tell  the  tale  as  'twas  told  to  me  by  one  of  the 
principal  actors. 

In  the  course  of  my  peregrinations  through  - 
out  these  United  States  of  America,  I  made 
frequent  visits  to  a  large  and  important  city— 
so  large  and  important,  indeed,  that  it  ranks 
among  the  very  first  of  those  centres  of  wealth 
and  luxury  that  give  reputation  to  artists  and 
control  the  taste  of  the  rest  of  the  country. 
The  manager  of  the  theatre  in  which  I  always 
acted  on  my  visit  to  -  — ,  was  a  tall,  good- 
looking  fellow  of  middle  age,  and  a  man  of 
true  culture  and  refinement,  in  fact,  a  gentle- 
man by  birth  and  education,  devoted  to  the 
kindred  avocations  of  Literature,  the  Stage 
and  Music,  in  all  three  of  which  he  was  a  skilled 
adept.  Community  of  tastes  brought  us 
together  in  private,  and  Frank  Lorrimere  and 
I  became  fast  friends.  He  was  getting  up  a 
grand  spectacular  production  of  one  of  the 
most  poetic  plays  I  ever  witnessed,  the  cast 
of  which  absolutely  required  a  young  girl  of 
good  appearance  and  skilled  in  music  and 
singing,  to  play  one  of  the  chief  parts.  Frank 
was  almost  at  his  wit's  ends.  The  great  pro- 
duction was  to  follow  my  engagement,  and 


A   SKETCH   FROM    HIS    PEN  157 

that  had  only  two  weeks  to  run.  The  scenery 
was  all  complete;  the  rest  of  the  dramatis 
persona  had  rehearsed  to  perfection;  but  just 
one  fortnight  before  the  piece  was  to  burst 
upon  an  expectant  public,  the  singing  juvenile 
lady  was  taken  ill  and  forced  to  resign  her 
part.  What  was  to  be  done?  None  of  the 
ordinary  opera-bouffe  soubrettes,  with  their 
bleached  locks  and  burlesque  style  would  do. 
The  part  called  for  a  graceful  girl  of  prepos- 
sessing features  and  of  peculiar  musical  talent, 
inasmuch  as  the  personator  must  not  only 
sing  well,  but  also  accompany  herself  upon 
the  harp,  in  the  characteristic  costume  of  the 
Spirit  of  Erin — the  Graine  Uaile,  the  Cathleen 
in  Oulahan,  that  represents  in  Irish  legend 
the  impersonation  of  the  romance  and  patriot- 
ism of  "  Bauba,  the  land  of  streams."  Frank 
was  an  Irishman.  So  was  I.  To  me  he  came 
in  his  trouble,  for  sympathy  and  counsel,  and 
thus  I  learned  the  true  story  I  am  going  to 
tell. 

One  day  at  rehearsal,  while  the  prompter 
was  reading  the  part  of  Deirdre  with  many 
growls  and  muttered  imprecations,  and  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra  was  vainly  trying  to 
give  the  wild  and  pathetic  music  that  Deirdre 
should  have  sung,  on  a  fiddle,  the  hall-keeper 
brought  a  note  to  the  manager.  Frank  opened 


158  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

the  envelope  and  read.    Then  he  came  out  to 
where  I  was  standing  apart  and  asked: 

"John,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  young  girl  by 
the  name  of  Janet  Cruise,  a  singer?" 

'There  is  none  such  in  the  army  of  any 
sort,'  "  quoted  I  from  "  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing." 

'  Well,  but  she's  just  arrived  from  San 
Francisco." 

'  The  devil  she  has.  Why,  that's  my  place 
of  second  birth,  my  dramatic  foster-mother. 
"  Let 's  have  her  in  by  all  means.  " 

"Show  the  young  lady  into  my  office," 
said  Frank  to  the  hall-keeper,  and  as  soon  as 
the  act  was  over,  we  repaired  together  to  the 
manager's  sanctum  sanctorum,  where  we 
found  a  young  woman  and  an  elderly  woman 
waiting  for  us,  or,  rather  for  the  manager. 
The  girl  was  not  exactly  pretty,  but  she  had 
that  indescribable  quality  of  sympathetic 
attraction— that  magnetism  that  is  surer  to 
please  than  regular  features  and  symmetrical 
form.  Her  face  was  of  true  Italian  type — a 
low,  broad  forehead,  deep  blue  eyes,  clear  olive 
complexion,  with  a  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks 
like  the  inside  of  a  shell;  a'  nose  somewhat 
clumsy  and  indicative  to  the  physiologist  of 
a  self-contained  nature,  but  a  nice  enough 
nose  when  taken  with  the  other  features.  Her 


A    SKETCH    FROM    HIS    PEN  159 

upper  lip  was  a  trifle  too  long  and  Celtic 
in  form.  Her  mouth  was  like  a  rosebud  newly 
opened,  and  her  teeth  like  rows  of  India  pearls. 
Altogether,  although  not  a  strictly  beautiful, 
still,  a  very  charming  face,  crowned  by  a  wealth 
of  gold-brown  hair  that  was  coiled  round  her 
shapely  head  in  a  shining  mass — in  fact,  Frank 
told  me  afterward,  in  a  kind  of  adoring  rap- 
ture, that  her  hair  was  sixty-three  inches  long. 
She  was  very  poorly  dressed,  so  shabbily,  in 
fact,  as  to  suggest  absolute  want.  Her  boots 
were  broken  on  her  shapely  feet,  her  gloves 
were  mended,  and  her  hat  covered  with  a 
gauze  veil,  evidently  to  conceal  its  condition 
of  shabbiness.  Despite  this,  she  looked  every 
inch  a  lady,  but  a  miserably  poor  one.  As 
for  Master  Frank,  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was 
gone.  ;<  Mashed"  would  be  a  word  too  feeble 
to  express  the  state  of  goneness  that  my  friend, 
surfeited  with  the  ordinary  types  of  stage 
beauty— adamant  to  the  charms  of  aureo- 
line-tressed  soubrettes  and  pallid  leading 
ladies — proof  against  prime  donne  and  care- 
less of  coryphees — had  been  reduced  to  by 
that  quiet,  pensive,  but  withal  intellectual 
face,  and  that  lithe  figure  so  suggestive  of 
luxurious  abandonment,  and  yet  so  almost 
conventional  in  its  modest  bearing. 

The  old  lady  opened  the   ball   by   saying: 


160  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

"  Mr.  Lorrimere,  we  have  been  informed  that 
there  is  a  vacancy  in  your  company  for  a  sing- 
ing lady,  and  my  niece  has  come  to  apply  for 
the  position." 

Frank  bowed  and  said:  "  Yes,  madam;  you 
are  right;  our  singing  lady  is  ill,  and  I  want 
somebody  to  fill  her  place.  May  I  ask  whom 
I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing?" 

"  My  name  is  Mrs.  Anna  Oldtown,  formerly 
a  rather  well  known  actress,  but  long  since 
retired  from  the  profession;  and  this  is  my 
niece,  Miss  Janet  Cruise,  whom  I  believe  you 
will  find  to  be  thoroughly  capable  of  filling 
the  vacant  place  in  your  cast." 

My  introduction  to  the  ladies  followed,  and 
then  Frank  proposed  to  hear  the  young  lady's 
voice.  A  harp  stood  in  the  room,  intended 
for  the  use  of  the  missing  vocalist,  and  Miss 
Cruise,  modestly  seating  herself,  began  to 
play.  A  few  rich,  resonant  chords,  then  a 
plaintive  voice  full  of  mysterious  tenderness— 
a  voice  most  musical  and  most  melancholy- 
stole  upon  our  ears  in  magic  melody.  Frank's 
face  was  a  study.  He  seemed  rapt  in  an 
ecstasy  as  the  music  "  came  o'er  him  like  the 
sweet  sough  that  breathes  upon  a  bank  of 
violets."  She  sang  that  most  exquisite  of 
airs,  "  The  Coolum,"  that  sounds  like  the 
breaking  of  a  heart,  and  she  sang  it  with  a 


A    SKETCH   FROM    HIS    PEN  161 

meaning  expression  that  seemed  to  come  from 
her  very  soul.  Of  course,  she  was  engaged 
on  the  spot,  and  descended  at  once  to  the 
stage,  whither  the  long-unused  harp  was  also 
conveyed.  The  part  was  given  her  to  read, 
to  the  great  contentment  of  the  prompter,  and 
the  musical  director  handed  her  the  score, 
which  she  read  with  the  utmost  facility.  The 
rehearsals  now  went  smoothly  on,  and  the 
mutual  attraction  existing  between  the  man- 
ager and  the  new  actress  was  evident  to 
all  the  company,  and  was,  of  course,  the  theme 
of  many  an  ill-natured  remark,  born  of  jeal- 
ousy and  spite.  In  fact,  the  love-making  was 
rather  more  on  Janet's  part  than  on  his.  She 
never  seemed  easy  if  he  was  not  by  her  side. 
The  smiles  and  sneers  of  the  company  were 
quite  indifferent  to  her;  she  was  polite  to  all, 
but  to  him  she  showed  an  affectionate  tender- 
ness of  manner  that  would  have  ensnared  the 
heart  of  a  stoical  German,  much  more  that  of 
a  susceptible  Irishman  of  mellow  age  and 
imaginative  disposition. 

The  old  lady  disappeared.  Lorrimere 
dropped  into  the  habit  of  calling  every 
morning  to  escort  the  girl  to  rehearsal,  and  to 
accompany  her  home  every  afternoon.  They 
lunched  together,  and  went  together  to  the 
theatre.  In  fact,  there  was  no  disguise 


162  JOHN     McCVLLOUGH 

attempted — the  affair  was  public  property. 
Lorrimere  was  unmarried;  so  was  the  fair 
Janet.  His  attentions  'were  unmistakable; 
so  was  her  reception  of  them.  The  thing  was 
apparently  settled,  and  when  I,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  my  engagement,  "  folded  my  tent 
and  silently  stole  away  ' '  to  fill  my  date  in  the 
next  town  on  my  route,  I  bade  them  farewell 
with  the  expressed  hope  that  I  should  return 
in  time  to  be  Frank's  best  man.  The  rest  I 
learned  from  Frank  himself,  whom  I  met  after- 
ward in  New  York,  "  a  sadder  and  a  wiser 
man. ' ' 

The  piece  was  produced  and  made  an  im- 
mense hit.  Janet's  singing  and  modest  beauty 
were  the  chief  attractions.  She  electrified  the 
audience  by  her  performance  of  ' '  The  Coolum  ' ' 
in  the  original  Celtic,  dressed  in  a  long  white 
Druidic  robe  with  a  coronal  of  shamrock  in  her 
rich  hair  which  hung  in  heavy  braids  down  to 
her  feet.  Frank  would  stand  at  the  wings  en- 
raptured, and  when  she  came  off  after  a  hurri- 
cane of  applause,  his  were  the  eyes  she  looked 
into  for  sympathy,  his  were  the  hands  she  put 
her  own  into,  in  trust  and  joyful  confidence. 
Frank  revelled  in  his  fools'  paradise.  He  had 
set  up  an  image  of  gold,  as  he  thought,  and 
bowed  down  and  worshipped  it,  as  is  the  wont 
of  men  of  poetic  temperament,  who  are  prone 


A   SKETCH   FROM    HIS    PEN  163 

to  endow  some  pretty  piece  of  flesh  with  their 
own  spirituality,  and  thus  become  uncon- 
scious self -idolaters.  As  for  the  charming 
Janet,  she  was  all  softness,  all  love.  Her  eyes 
met  Frank's  in  liquid  longing;  her  hand  met 
his  with  clinging  clasp;  her  waist  seemed 
never  so  fitly  girdled  as  by  his  arm,  and  her 
tempting  lips  pouted  as  if  to  ask  for  his  kisses. 
The  broken  boots,  the  mended  gloves,  the 
shabby  garments  had  vanished,  and  neat 
bottines  encased  her  pretty  feet,  twelve- 
button  mousquetaire  gloves  sheathed  her 
arms,  which,  sooth  to  say,  were  somewhat 
too  long  for  symmetry  and  needed  a  good 
many  buttons  to  come  high  enough.  The 
napless  hat  had  given  place  to  a  pretty  con- 
fection of  silk,  lace,  and  feathers.  Janet 
Cruise  was  like  a  butterfly  lately  broken  forth 
from  the  chrysalis.  Needless  to  say  that  all 
this  splendor  was  paid  for  by  the  infatuated 
Lorrimere,  who  deemed  no  offering  too  rich 
to  lay  at  the  shrine  of  his  goddess. 

But  there^  is  a  seamy  side  to  everything. 
The  grand  Hibernian  historical,  spectacular 
and  musical  drama  of  "Deirdre,  the  Daughter 
of  Usnach,"  had  cost  fabulous  sums  to  put  on 
the  stage,  and,  sooth  to  say,  after  the  first 
week  the  houses  fell  off.  Now  when  a  mana- 
ger begins  to  lose  money  he  loses  it  with  a 


164  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

rush.  Dramatic  speculation  is  like  gambling; 
you  either  break  the  bank  or  the  bank  breaks 
you.  There  is  no  middle  path.  Lorrimere 
began  to  drop  his  money  with  a  celerity 
familiar  to  those  who  have  been  there  them- 
selves, and  became  somewhat  crippled.  From 
the  first  performance  of  the  "  Deirdre, "  an 
ancient  Irishman,  named  Carroll  O 'Carroll, 
had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  the  intoxi- 
cating Janet.  He  was  not  a  handsome  man- 
indeed,  he  was  quite  the  opposite.  He  was 
club-footed  as  Asmodeus  and  hump-backed 
as  ^Esop.  But  he  was  rich,  very  rich,  dis- 
gustingly rich.  He  had  come  from  Ireland  as 
a  boy,  and  had  worked  his  way  up  from 
sweeping  out  office  floors  and  "  polishing  up 
the  handle  of  the  big  front  door,"  to  the 
proud  possessor  of  a  liquor-shop  all  to  his 
own  self.  He  graduated  as  ward  politician, 
office-holder,  alderman,  and  now  could  call 
himself  by  the  sounding  title  of  "  Boss."  He 
was  a  power  in  the  land,  notwithstanding  his 
ignorance,  vulgarity  and  deformity.  As  affairs 
grew  worse  with  Lorrimere,  Mr.  Carroll  O 'Car- 
roll became  a  more  frequent  visitor  to  Janet, 
and  on  the  final  collapse  of  the  spectacular 
drama  that  young  lady  announced  that  she 
had  accepted  the  charge  of  the  Boss'  young 
daughters  as  their  governess  for  the  summer. 


A    SKETCH    FROM    HIS    PEN  165 

Frank  was  astounded,  but  trusting  wholly  in 
his  fair  enslaver's  honor  and  truth,  he  said 
nothing.  He  knew  that  Janet  had  an  impe- 
cunious family  to  support,  for  he  had  many 
times  supplied  her  with  funds  wherewith  to 
relieve  their  necessities. 

The  summer  was  in  full  glare  and  the 
theatre  had  closed  with  a  loss.  Janet,  with 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  her  lips  on  his 
cheek,  swore  that  she  would  never  forget  him 
and  would  come  back  to  the  theatre  in  the  fall, 
"  like  a  dove  that  seeketh  its  mother's  nest." 
And  at  Frank's  hinting  at  the  evident  amorous 
designs  of  the  Boss,  she  had  laughed  in  his  face 
at  the  idea.  Well,  to  make  my  story  short, 
Frank  Lorrimere  agreed  to  her  going  away 
for  the  summer,  with  the  promise  that  she 
would  write  to  him  every  day.  He  paid  her 
last  milliner's  bill,  gave  her  her  last  instal- 
ment of  jewelry — a  bracelet,  with  his  family 
crest  and  the  inscription,  "  Cush  la  Ma  Chree  " 
(pulse  of  my  heart) ;  took  her  for  the  last  time 
to  the  theatre  and  supper  afterward;  met  her 
the  next  day  to  renew  their  vows  of  truth  and 
love;  kissed  and  parted  with  tears  and  oaths 
of  constancy— and  never  heard  of  her  from 
that  day  to  the  day  on  which  I  encountered 
him  starting  for  Europe — pale,  thin  and 
wretched,  the  victim  of  woman's  treachery 


166  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

and  man's  folly — having  given  up  his  career, 
his  theatre,  his  all,  in  the  faint  hope  of  being 
able  fo  forget  the  poor  "  feckless  "  thing  that 
had  sold  herself  to  a  deformed  dwarf  for 
filthy  lucre.  I  strove  to  comfort  him  by 
bringing  to  his  mind  numberless  instances  of 
like  deceit  that  our  mutual  experience  of  the 
world  and  the  stage  had  shown  us;  but  the 
wound  was  too  fresh — the  scar  had  not  yet 
healed — and  I  saw  that  the  wisest  plan  was 
to  let  him  "gang  his  ain  gait,"  confident  that 
his  mental  balance  was  too  well  poised  to  be 
totally  overthrown  by  an  unworthy  woman. 

And  I  was  right,  for  the  next  season  saw 
Richard  himself  again,  able  to  laugh  at  his 
past  folly,  and  even  to  see  his  false  love  seated 
with  her  crook-back  tyrant,  for  a  tyrant  he 
proved  to  be,  in  a  stage-box  in  his  own  theatre, 
directly  opposite  his  own  true  bride,  whom 
he  had  met  in  London,  and  who  had  found  out 
the  way  to  heal  his  famished  heart,  and  to 
make  him  believe  that  there  were  Ophelias 
and  Juliets  in  the  world  as  well  as  Gertrudes 
and  Lady  Annes. 

And  thus  I  will  leave  them,  and  bring  "  my 
ower  true  tale  "  to  an  end  with  the  comfort- 
able saying  of  Benedick— 

"  Men  have  died  and  worms  have  eaten  them; 
But  not  for  love." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TWILIGHT. 

"  Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh." 

—  Hamlet. 

"  Last  scene  of  all, 

That  ends  this  strange,  eventful  history, 
Is  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion." 

— As  You  Like  It. 

Ah,  but  why  should  twilight  .fall  at  high 
noon?  Why  the  full-orbed  sun  at  its  zenith, 
suffer  eclipse?  At  the  apex  of  his  fame, 
standing,  at  last,  without  a  peer  in  his  pro- 
fession, what  richness  of  coloring  might  not 
the  ripening  years  have  brought,  how  they 
would  have  increased  his  excellence,  expanded 
his  affluent  powers  to  still  greater  unfoldment, 
to  grander  achievement  !  Must  this  fruition 
be  denied  that  great,  true  heart  which  lived 
only  to  love  and  bless  the  world?  Or  was  it 
necessary  that  this  mortal  chapter,  so  worthily 
written,  be  closed  that  the  sequel  be  unfolded, 
that  a  higher  avenue  of  usefulness  might 
open? 

It  is  difficult  to  associate  disease  or  decay 
with  McCullough's  superb  health  and  unfail- 
ing endurance.  But  even  his  stalwart  frame 


167 


168  .  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

and  robust  physique  were  not  proof  against 
the  ceaseless  wear  and  tear  of  nervous  energy 
to  which  it  was  subjected,  the  inordinate  tax 
upon  the  mental  faculties,  the  emotional, 
nature.  In  the  spring  of  1883  his  health 
began  to  fail.  He  first  noticed  a  waning  of  his 
power  in  public  work,  at  the  opening  of  the 
Dramatic  Festival  in  Cincinnati,  April  29, 1883, 
which  was  signalized  by  a  magnificent  presen- 
tation of  "Julius  Caesar,"  with  the  following 
notable  cast: 

Julius  Casar    Louis  James 

Octavius  Caesar Otis  Skinner 

Marcus  Antonius    James  R.  Murdock 

Marcus  Brutus      John  McCullough 

Caius  Cassius    Lawrence  Barrett 

Casca    H.  A.  Langdon 

Plebonius     P.  C.  Mosley 

Decius  Brutus     B.  O.  Rogers 

Mettelus  Cimber    H.  G.  Barton 

Cinna      P.   Little 

Popilius     Homer  Cone 

Titinius     Albert  T.  Riddle 

Lucius     Miss  M.  Willett 

Pindarus     .  , Charles  Rolfe 

A  Soothsayer    Errol  Dunbar 

Servina      Mrs.   Charles  Plunkett 

First  Citizen    C.  W.  Vance 

Second  Citizen     Charles  Plunkett 

Calpurnia     Marie  Wainwright 

Portia     Kate  Forsyth 

A  "correspondent  of  the  N.  Y.  Herald  of 
that  date,  reports  that  when  McCullough 
and  Barrett  appeared  upon  the  stage,  they 


TWILIGHT  169 

were  greeted  with  prolonged  cheers,  and  it  is 
evident  that  McCullough's  slight  weariness  was 
not  noted  by  the  audience,  for  they  called  him 
before  the  curtain  with  every  demonstration 
of  enthusiastic  approval. 

His  friends  at  this  time,  and  often  there- 
after, besought  him  urgently  to  take  a  long 
rest,  and  early  in  May,  he  did  consent  to  make 
an  extended  and  restful  visit  in  Quincy,  Illi- 
nois, with  his  old  friend,  John  B.  Carson. 

During  his  stay  in  this  pleasant  city,  a  break- 
fast was  tendered  him  by  one  of  the  social 
leaders  of  Quincy,  Mrs.  Charles  Henry  Bull, 
and  he  gave  to  the  assembled  ladies  an  in- 
teresting and  valuable  address  on  dramatic 
art,  illustrated  by  recitations  from  Shake- 
speare. 

But  the  active  spirit  could  not  long  remain 
inert,  and,  rallying  somewhat,  he  began  the 
following  season  in  August,  at  Denver.  The 
occupation  he  loved  and  the  exhilaration  of 
his  dramatic  triumphs,  stimulated  his  flagging 
energies,  kept  the  insidious  malady  longer 
at  bay,  so  that  he  undertook  engagements  in 
New  York,  playing  here  for  four  weeks, 
making  unconsciously  his  farewell  appear- 
ances. He  appeared  in  Boston  also,  where  it 
was  thought  his  powers  were  never  more 
brilliantly  displayed,  and  as  usual  in  the 


170  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

Christmas  season,  playing  in  Philadelphia. 
His  recognition  as  a  star  here  (while  always 
warmly  loved  as  a  man  and  a  friend)  was  per- 
haps a  little  slower  in  Philadelphia,  where 
his  debut  as  a  novice  had  been  made,  than 
elsewhere,  thus  sharing  the  usual  experience 
of  "a  prophet  in  his  own  country."  He 
himself  referred  to  this  apathy,  in  conversation 
with  a  friend  with  whom  he  was  walking 
down  Chestnut  Street,  in  the  spring  of  1877, 
after  closing  an  engagement  there,  which  had 
elicited  favorable  comment  from  the  press. 

'  That,"  said  he,  "is  the  first  real  hearty 
word  of  encouragement  and  praise  that  I  have 
ever  received  in  this  city,  but  they  will  have 
to  come  and  see  me  yet,  and  I  could  feel  during 
this  whole  engagement,  which  has  been  only 
fairly  profitable,  and  by  no  means  such  as  I 
shall  play  in  Boston,  that  the  ice  is  breaking 
up."  He  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  his 
later  popularity  in  Philadelphia.  The  ice 
was  melted  forever. 

Near  the  close  of  June,  he  once  more  crossed 
the  Atlantic,  visiting  the  German  Springs  at 
Carlsbad,  but  their  healing  potency  proved 
ineffectual  to  "  minister  unto  a  mind  dis- 
eased." He  returned  home,  a  little  refreshed 
from  his  trip,  but  much  broken  mentally, 


TWILIGHT  171 

yet  he  still  attempted  the  old  work.     When 
remonstrated  with,  he  said: 

'  I  must  act;  it  is  my  life,"  and  his  friends 
hoping  that  his  cherished  occupation  would 
re-enforce  his  waning  strength,  and  prove  a 
tonic  to  him  as  it  had  done  .the  previous 
season,  reluctantly  consented.  Cheering  ver- 
dicts of  his  condition  were  often  heard,  and 
prophecies  made  that  ' '  John  will  work  it  off, 
and  pull  through. " 

But  it  was  not  to  be,  and  it  was  in  Chicago, 
on  September  29,  1884,  at  McVicker's  Theatre, 
that  the  final  collapse  came.  Of  his  opening 
performance  in  that  engagement,  the  Chicago 
Tribune  of  September  23  makes  kindly  com- 
ment. '  It  cannot  be  expected  that  an  ob- 
server should  mistake  depression  for  subdued 
pathos,  or  weakness  for  reserved  force,  or 
discern  merits  at  a  time  when  McCullough  has 
not  fully  recovered  from  his  illness.  Here 
and  there  during  the  progress  of  the  drama  " 
(which  was  Virginius)  "  some  familiar  line 
was  spoken  with  a  flash  of  live  feeling,  but  in 
passages  demanding  cumulative  power,  there 
was  an  abnipt  breaking  of  the  chain  of  thought 
and  a  failure  to  master  the  climax. 

"  Lapses  of  memory  occurred  at  critical 
periods  of  the  action,  but  these  embarrassing 
pauses  may  be  overcome  when  he  has  warmed 


172  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

up  to  his  work.  The  cry  '  If  they  dare,'  which 
closes  the  fine  scene  in  the  fifth  act,  and  the 
passionate  smothered  exclamation  '  I  am 
patient,'  before  the  tent,  these  and  other  short 
outbursts  in  the  dialogue,  were  uttered  with 
as. much  robust  vigor  as  McCullough  has  ever 
brought  to  bear  upon  his  art." 

But  the  same  periodical  of  September  30, 
was  forced  to  record  a  sadder  story.  "  Mc- 
Cullough's  malady  last  evening  reached  a 
crisis.  A  pitiable  scene  was  witnessed  when 
the  pressure  of  illness  which  has  borne  so 
heavily  on  the  great  artist  seemed  to  overcome 
him.  He  struggled  manfully  through  his 
part  with  the  assistance  of  frequent  prompting, 
but  his  apathy  deepened  as  the  play  pro- 
gressed. Slips  and  mistakes  occurred  that 
were  painful  to  his  well-wishers.  The  audi- 
ence misunderstood  his  condition. 

"  He  broke  down  in  his  last  speech,  the 
pathetic  death  scene  which  closes  the  tragedy 
of  '  The  Gladiator.'  There  were  hisses  and 
ironical  remarks  from  different  parts  of  the 
house,  which  was  regrettable",  for  one  who  has 
pleased  the  public  so  often,  but  playgoers 
could  not  be  blamed  for  they  did  not  know  of 
his  true  condition. 

"  But  the  saddest  finale  occurred  the  next 
morning,  when  to  humor  his  wish,  the  com- 


TWILIGHT  173 

pany  consented  to  rehearse  '  Richelieu,'  al- 
though they  knew  the  engagement  was  at  an 
end,  but  they  were  all  anxious  to  gratify  his 
whim.  He  struggled  through  the  lines  of  the 
great  Cardinals  part,  uttering  now  and  then, 
sentences  from  '  Virginius  '  and  '  The  Gladi- 
ator '  and  other  favorite  parts.  At  last,  he 
came  to  the  curse  scene  and  there  was  a 
momentary  gleam  of  the  former  fire  as  the 
splendid  and  powerful  words  fell  from  his 
lips.  Some  of  the  members  of  the  company 
who  were  sitting  in  the  parquet,  began  to 
applaud,  when,  touched  by  this  sudden  ex- 
hibition of  sympathy,  the  actor  burst  into 
tears.  As  he  wept,  the  fond  illusion  of  power 
that  he  cherished,  seemed  to  fall  away  from 
him.  Then  the  play  went  on,  and  Mr.  Lane 
uttered  a  line  descriptive  of  the  Cardinal's 
breaking  strength.  McCullough  looked  at 
him  in  a  sad,  dazed  way  and  again  there  was 
a  pause  of  most  painful  embarrassment. 
Finally,  he  wandered  from  the  part  of  the 
Cardinal  to  that  of  Richard  III,  which  he 
had  seen  played  by  Keene,  two  nights  before. 
'  Probably  there  is  nothing  more  touching 
in  the  history  of  the  stage  than  the  fatality 
which  induced  the  despondent  actor  to  speak 
those  infinitely  sad  lines  from  the  fifth  act  of 
Shakespeare's  play.  They  are  from  Richard's 


174  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

soliloquy  after  the  awful  apparition  on  the 
battlefield,  and  when  he  was  filled  with  the 
presentiment  of  his  coming  fate. 

'  I  shall  despair — there  is  no  creature  loves  me, 
And  if  I  die,  no  soul  will  pity  me.' 

'  Before  the  rehearsal  was  over,  some  one 
brought  in  from  the  front  of  the  building,  the 
huge  placards  bearing  the  tragedian's  name 
and  likeness,  and  this  incident  was  a  shock  to 
him.  He  realized  then  that  his  engagement 
was  at  an  end,  and  he  saw  at  last  the  full 
significance  of  the  line  addressed  to  him  the 
night  before,  when  his  strength  forsook  him 
in  the  last  scene  of  '  The  Gladiator. '  The 
words  were  in  the  play,  but  it  was  a  strange 
coincidence  that  they  should  have  been  spoken 
at  the  moment  when  John  McCullough  stood 
perhaps  for  the  last  time  upon  the  stage. 

'  General,  you  are  unfit  for  battle, 
Come  to  your  tent.'  ' 

Another  account  of  this  unwelcome  collapse 
is  furnished  by  Joseph  Haworth,  who  was 
supporting  McCullough  at  the  time,  and  an 
eye-witness  of  these  affecting  scenes,  the 
young  artist  having  himself  also  now  passed 
on  to  higher  spheres  of  activity. 

His  account  is  as  follows  (quoted  from 
Lewis  C.  Strang's  "  Famous  Actors  of  the 
Day  in  America  ' ') : 


SPARTACUS 


TWILIGHT  175 

"  For  a  long  time  signs  of  breaking  down 
were  noticeable,  and  on  that  last  performance 
in  Chicago,  we  all  saw  that  the  poor  Guv 'nor 
would  not  last  much  longer.  The  play  was 
'  The  Gladiator,'  with  McCullough  as  Spar- 
tacus.  I  played  Pharsarius.  When  the 
brothers  met  in  the  arena,  he  seemed  to  forget 
his  lines  and  he  became  confused.  He  placed 
both  his  hands  on  my  shoulders  and  trembled, 
as  he  said,  '  What  next,  Joe,  what  next?' 
I  gave  him  the  cue  and  we  finished.  After  the 
act  we  received  two  recalls,  where  we  gener- 
ally got  six  or  seven.  He  said,  '  My  boy,  they 
seem  to  like  it  to-night;  it's  going  fine.'  He 
slipped  up  on  the  lines  several  times  after 
this  act,  and  once  he  accused  me  of  reading 
his  lines.  The  last  act  came,  and  those  who 
heard  the  words  of  the  boy  attending  him, 
can  never  forget  how  they  sounded:  '  Gen- 
eral, you  had  best  go  to  your  tent;  you  are 
unfit  for  battle.'  He  was  called  before  the 
curtain  at  the  close,  the  audience  seeming  to 
understand  that  something  was  wrong.  There 
were  loud  calls  for  a  speech,  and  he  spoke  a 
few  words.  They  were  the  last  spoken  in 
public.  He  said: 

"  '  If  you  had  suffered  as  I  have  to-night,  you 
would  not  have  done  this.  Good  night.' 

"  The   company   was   disbanded,    and   the 


176  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

next  morning  it  assembled  at  the  theatre  on 
business.  The  Guv 'nor  came  in,  and  meeting 
me  in  the  lobby  said, 

"  '  The  show  did  not  go  very  well  last  night, 
and  the  papers  cut  me  up  a  bit  this  morning. ' 

"  "Never  mind  that,'  -I  replied,  '  you  need 
not  care  for  what  is  said.' 

"  I  asked  him  if  there  was  to  be  a  re- 
hearsal, and  he  answered  '  yes.'  Knowing  his 
condition,  the  company  consented  just  to 
humor  him.  The  first  play  to  be  rehearsed 
was  '  The  Gladiator. '  He  was  perfect  in  every 
line,  and  he  had  the  entire  company  in  tears 
during  parts  of  his  delivery.  When  he  said  to 
me,  in  giving  me  charge  of  his  wife  and 
family,  '  Pharsarius,  I  give  thee  more  than 
my  life,  guard  them  well,'  there  seemed  to  be 
more  meaning  to  the  lines  than  I  ever  heard 
before.  It  was  with  genuine  sorrow  that  Mrs. 
Foster,  the  wife,  replied,  '  Husband,  husband, 
do  not  send  me  away;  if  I  leave  thee  now  it 
will  be  forever.' 

' '  There  was  not  a  member  of  the  company 
that  did  not  feel  the  deep  meaning  of  this  line, 
and  even  the  strongest  man  in  the  company, 
Harry  Langdon,  was  sobbing  like  a  child. 
McCullough  did  not  seem  to  mind  what  was 
going  on  about  him.  When  Spartacus  died, 
after  the  lines,  '  There  are  green  valleys  in 


TWILIGHT  177 

Thrace, '  his  head  dropped  listlessly,  as  though 
he  was  dead  in  reality. 

"  When  '  The  Gladiator  '  was  finished,  he 
called  for  a  rehearsal  of  '  Richelieu,'  and  of 
course  his  order  was  obeyed.  He  went  through 
the  play  in  the  same  perfect  manner  that 
characterized  '  The  Gladiator.'  He  delivered 
the  curse  in  a  magnificent  manner,  and,  at  its 
conclusion,  the  entire  company  joined  in  loud 
and  heartfelt  applause.  When  Baradas  recited 
the  line,  'His  mind  and  life  are  breaking  fast,' 
the  Guv 'nor  turned  to  denounce  him.  As  he 
did  so,  he  broke  down  completely,  and  was 
taken  away  to  the  hotel.  We  all  felt  that  we 
had  bid  a  long  good-bye  to  poor  John  McCul- 
lough,  and  that  we  would  never  see  him  again 
on  this  earth.  I  cannot  add  anything  to  the 
tributes  that  have  been  paid  to  the  memory 
of  McCullough.  He  was  a  dear,  good  friend, 
a  whole-souled  man,  loved  by  his  friends, 
and  his  enemies(?) — well,  his  kindly,  genial 
nature  was  proof  against  them." 

Nowhere  in  the  whole  range  of  sad  and 
pathetic  drama  was  ever  scene  enacted  so 
pitiful,  distressing,  so  unacceptable  in  its 
hopelessness,  as  this  tragedy  which  has  been 
'recounted.  To  see  this  grand  man,  this  giant 
in  power,  suddenly  bereft  of  his  noble  reason, 


178  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

even  to  a  degree,  the  scene  all  the  more  affect- 
ing that  its  chief  actor  was  so  unconscious 
of  the  sad  part  he  was  enacting,  wholly  obliv- 
ious of  his  state,  and  of  the  lamentable  truth 
that  his  work  on  this  plane  was  for  ever 
ended,  the  sword  of  mimic  combat  dropped 
from  his  listless  hands,  the  toga  and  sandals 
which  he  could  wear  so  royally,  laid  aside. 

Oh,  if  there  were  not  another  world  for  the 
continued  exercise  of  his  genius,  a  realm  of 
freedom  from  every  malady  and  pain,  this 
spectacle  would  be  still  more  unendurable. 
As  it  was,  the  stoutest  hearts  were  wrenched 
with  the  anguish  of  the  world's  great  loss  and 
with  the  personal  sorrow  of  parting  from  this 
great  artist,  this  true  and  beloved  friend. 
But  the  gateway  of  exit  was  not  attended  with 
acute  suffering,  and  was  thus  merciful. 

There  might  be  mentioned  a  possible  origi- 
nating cause  for  such  strange  mental  collapse 
at  so  early  an  age,  not  yet  fifty-three,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  in  the  zenith  of  his  power  and 
vigor,  which  is  not  generally  known.  Some 
years  before,  in  March,  1877,  when  he  was 
playing  one  of  his  early  starring  engagements 
in  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
as  he  was  leaving  the  stage  after  one  of  the 
acts  in  "  Virginius,"  by  the  right  front  en- 
trance, he  had  not  advanced  far  enough  to 


TWILIGHT  179 

escape  the  descending  drop  curtain,  whose 
heavy  roller  hit  his  head  with  such  force  as 
to  temporarily  stun  him.  The  blow  was  not 
of  such  a  nature  as  to  cut  the  scalp,  but 
rendered  him  insensible,  so  that  a  doctor  had 
to  be  summoned,  and,  while  the  performance 
was  delayed  for  his  recovery,  he  was  able  to 
finish  the  role,  though  suffering  from  great 
pain  in  his  head. 

This  accident  was  witnessed  from  the  audi- 
torium by  Mr.  Walter  Hubbell  — •  actor,  author 
and  poet  —  who  has  been  seen  more  frequently 
behind  the  foot-lights,  as  the  worthy  support 
of  Booth  and  other  stars,  as  well  as  of  McCul- 
lough.  And  might  it  not  be  (the  effect  of 
blows  are  so  subtle  and  so  gradual)  that  a  clot 
of  blood,  occasioned  by  the  injury,  slowly 
formed  until  it  encroached  upon  the  brain, 
and  the  inspiring  spirit  could  thus  no  longer 
perfectly  control  this  avenue  of  intelligence. 
It  would  seem  that  only  an  accident  could 
account  for  such  early  decline  of  an  excep- 
tionally vigorous  manhood.  But  of  this, 
more  anon. 

The  world  of  creeds  and  puritanical  preju- 
dice has  ever  been  too  ready  to  regard  the 
actor  as  a  somewhat  unworthy  specimen  of 
humanity,  too  prone  to  impute  dissipation 
as  the  prolific  cause  of  any  malady  that  may 


180  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

assail  him,  although  the  same  infirmities  visit 
mortals  in  any  walk  of  life  with  equal  impar- 
tiality. This  gentle  invalid  perhaps  received 
his  death  blow  on  the  field  of  worthy  service, 
while  enacting  a  character  of  spotless  virtue, 
while  portraying  the  noblest  of  human  senti- 
ments— a  father's  love. 

And  his  nobility  of  soul,  the  sweet  serenity 
of  his  disposition,  colored  the  advance  of  his 
incurable  malady.  He  roamed  about  with 
freedom,  and  to  a  degree  directed  his  own 
movements  and  affairs,  until  one  day  he  came 
near  being  run  down  on  Broadway,  New  York, 
and  then  his  friends  thought  it  best  for  his 
greater  safety  to  place  him  in  the  Blooming- 
dale  Asylum,  where  he  might  receive  intelli- 
gent care,  a  move  of  which  his  own  physician, 
Dr.  Hugo  Engel  of  Philadelphia,  never  ap- 
proved, as  he  did  not  consider  McCullough 
insane.  There  was  caprice,  there  were  erratic 
moods,  when  he  would  visit  the  theatres,  under 
the  impression  that  he  had  an  engagement 
to  play  in  them,  but  there  was  no  "madness" 
in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  term,  no 
raving,  no  violent  ranting  of  old  parts,  as  has 
been  (alas  !)  presented  to  the  world  through 
the  fraudulent  phonograph,  an  exhibition 
now  mercifully  suppressed.  The  childlike 
sufferer  simply  slept  and  ate  and  lapsed  into 


TWILIGHT  181 

vacancy,  occasionally  arousing  for  brief  inter- 
vals to  recognize  his  friends  and  then  return- 
ing to  the  dream-land  of  his  twilight  existence. 

In  one  of  his  wife's  visits  to  the  asylum,  he 
said  to  her  in  his  half  confused  way,  "  Isn't 
it  queer,  Letty,  that  I  am  always  thinking  of 
Lizzie"  (his  favorite  sister)  "  coming  to  see 
me,  and  I  know  that  she  is  dead."  To  many 
sound  brains  this  consciousness  may  not  seem 
"queer." 

Only  seven  weeks  before  the  glad  awaken- 
ing came  from  this  living  death,  Charles  E. 
Leland  of  the  Sturtevant  House,  visited  him 
in  his  retreat,  and  even  at  this  late  stage  of 
his  illness,  the  invalid  talked  of  bygone  days, 
recalling  many  reminiscences  which  in  such 
busy  career  might  easily  have  been  forgotten 
by  a  healthy  mind. 

Even  the  angel  of  Life,  so  often  mis-named 
Death,  advanced  with  gentle,  merciful  touch 
to  bring  blessed  release  to  this  favorite  son. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SUNRISE. 

"  There  is  no  death  !    What  seems  so  is  transition. 

This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  the  suburb  of  the  life  elysian 
•  Whose  portal  we  call  death."' 

— Longfellow. 

"  None  knew  thee  but  to  love  thee, 
Nor  named  thee  but  to  praise." 

— Fitz- Greene  Halleck. 

The  Bloomingdale  Sanitarium  (which  occu- 
pied very  nearly  the  present  site  of  the  Epis- 
copal Cathedral  in  New  York) ,  constituted  the 
abode  of  the  invalid  only  from  June  27  to 
October  25,  1885,  at  which  date  he  was 
removed  to  his  home  in  Philadelphia,  219 
East  Thompson  Street.  Here  for  several 
days  he  seemed  to  grow  steadily  stronger  and 
brighter,  his  mind  also  cleared,  and  while  the 
muscles  of  his  throat  were  somewhat  para- 
lyzed, so  that  he  did  not  regain  the  power  of 
articulation,  his  eye  showed  intelligent  cog- 
nizance of  all  that  occurred  around  him,  and 
his  physician's  hopes  and  expectations  of  an 
ultimate  recovery  grew  very  strong.  Most 
encouraging  reports  went  forth  from  the  sick 
room;  he  became  able  to  sit  in  an  easy  chair 

182 


SUNRISE  183 

and  eat  with  increased  appetite  and  enjoy- 
ment. 

The  Philadelphia  Press  of  November  9 
records  the  features  of  these  last  days:  "  He 
knew  his  friends,  and  with  his  eyes  acknowl- 
edged their  wishes  for  a  bright  future,  and  the 
meaning  in  the  grip  of  their  hands.  His  wife 
was  ever  near  him,  always  ministering  to  him, 
as  only  a  wife  and  woman  can.  With  his  eyes 
he  thanked  her,  and  his  glance  followed  her 
as  she  flitted  in  and  out  of  the  room.  Late 
on  Saturday,  when  Mr.  Johnson  called,  the 
invalid  was  bright  and  cheery,  perhaps  better 
than  at  any  time  during  his  illness,  greeting 
his  dear  friend  and  legal  adviser  with  much 
affection,  and  he  made  several  vain  attempts 
to  speak." 

But  the  throat  which  had  done  such  noble 
service  would  no  longer  respond  to  the  spirit's 
volition.  And  this  gleam  of  the  old  intelli- 
gence proved  but  the  flash  of  the  expiring 
flame.  Suddenly,  on  Saturday  evening,  there 
was  a  change  for  the  worse.  Violent  and 
rapid  breathing  was  noticed  by  his  faithful 
nurse,  William  Nutt,  and  the  physician  was 
speedily  summoned.  Hypodermic  injections 
of  brandy  and  ether  were  administered,  but 
without  effect,  although  respiration  gradually 
became  more  quiet,  but  all  realized  the  end 


184  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

was  near.  His  face  was  still  suffused  with 
the  hues  of  health,  but  there  was  upon  it  an 
expression  of  great  weariness  and  weakness. 

On  Sunday  morning,  just  as  the  church 
bells  were  ringing,  he  turned  and  looked  at 
his  wife,  who  was  softly  weeping.  He  tried 
to  speak  to  her,  but  was  unable  to  voice  the 
sentiment  which  shone  in  his  glance.  Then 
he  closed  his  eyes,  and  never  again  opened 
them,  although  he  breathed  softly  until  just 
after  the  clock  in  his  room  struck  one,  when 
the  great  heart  ceased  to  beat.  There  was  no 
struggle,  no  last  word;  he  passed  away  peace- 
fully, as  a  child  would  go  to  sleep.  The  morn- 
ing of  a  New  Day  had  dawned  for  him  in  the 
Land  of  Light. 

Dr.  Engel's  theory  of  his  malady  was  that 
the  left  side  of  the  brain  had  become  wasted 
and  in  a  sense  dried  up  through  blood-poison- 
ing, the  artery  that  supplied  it  with  blood 
having  been  choked  up  by  some  foreign  sub- 
stance. The  theory 'of  the  physicians  at  the 
asylum  however,  differed  from  this  diagnosis. 
They  called  it  paralytic  dementia,  from  which 
recovery  was  impossible.  They,  did  not  treat 
him  medicinally,  but  held  that  all  that  could 
be  done  for  him  was  by  gentleness  and  kindly 
service  to  ease  his  decline.  None  of  these 
professional  gentlemen  knew  that  any  blow 


SUNRISE  «  185 

on  the  head  had  ever  been  received.     There 
was  no  autopsy. 

It  was  in  the  departure  of  this  grand  soul 
that  the  beauty  of  his  private  life,  the  strong 
grasp  he  held  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people 
everywhere,  was  most  apparent.  Perhaps  no 
actor  was  ever  so  profoundly  mourned.  Mr. 
Johnson  announced  his  decease  to  Mr.  W.  M. 
Conner  of  New  York  by  the  following  tele- 
gram: 

"John  is  dead.  He  passed  away  peace- 
fully at  one  o'clock  to-day.  Funeral  on 
Thursday.  Have  proper  announcement  made, 
and  his  personal  and  professional  friends 
invited." 

When  these  sad  tidings  reached  Mr.  Conner 
he  was  deeply  affected,  exclaiming:  '  He  was 
nearer  than  a  brother  to  me.  You  well  know 
how  two  men  can  be  knit  together  by  bonds 
of  mutual  liking  and  sympathy  closer  than 
mere  ties  of  blood  can  join  them." 

Other  warm  friends,  called  hither  by  the 
tidings,  were  too  much  affected  to  speak  of 
McCullough  save  in  fondest  terms  full  of 
regret,  and  still  more  touching  tributes  were 
paid  by  his  professional  companions  every- 
where. W.  J.  Florence  soon  came  in  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  and  a  break  in  his  voice, 
saying: 


186  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

"  Poor  John  !  A  noble  soul  gone  !  I  first 
met  him  thirty  years  ago,  in  Philadelphia, 
and  from  that  time  till  the  present  I  was  one 
of  his  closest  friends.  I  knew  John  perhaps 
longer  than  any  man  in  the  profession,  and  I 
knew  him  long  before  he  entered  upon  his 
distinguished  career.  His  aspirations,  when  I 
met  him  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  to  become 
an  actor,  were  very  strong,  and  never  shall 
I  forget  when  I  saw  him  the  following  year, 
the  joy  that  beamed  from  his  eye  when  he 
told  me  he  had  made  his  debut  upon  the  stage. 
I  have  met  him  often  since,  and  we  have  been 
stanch  friends.  He  would  often  refer  to  his 
small  beginnings,  and  in  his  frank  and  win- 
some manner  thank  me  for  the  words  of 
advice  and  friendship  which  I  spoke  to  him 
as  a  boy. 

"John's  death  is  the  breaking  of  another 
link  that  bound  the  coterie  together — Forrest, 
Adams,  McCullough — only  Booth  and  I  left. 
I  was  in  England  when  John  was  playing  there 
in  April,  1881,  at  the  Drury  Lane  Theatre. 
He  looked  grand  that  night,  and  all  the  Ameri- 
cans present  arose  to  their  feet  and  cheered 
him.  He  not  only  impressed  his  own  country- 
men, but  won  his  way  to  the  hearts  of  the 
English,  as  well. 

"  John  McCullough  was  always  a  diligent 


SUNRISE  187 

student  and  in  this,  I  think,  may  be  found  the 
secret  of  his  phenomenal  success  and  the  alas  ! 
so  premature  failing  of  his  powers.  He  was 
not  dissipated,  yet  knowing  his  mode  of  life, 
I  can  but  wonder  that  he  survived  so  long. 
The  parts  in  which  he  excelled — those  of  Lear, 
Othello  and  Virginius  —  impose  upon  the 
actor's  vitality  a  severe  strain  and  shorten 
his  life  with  every  appearance.  So  many 
men  who  have  excelled  in  tragedy,  have  met 
with  similar  ends,  that  I  am  surprised  that 
some  people  have  seen  fit  to  ransack  their 
heads  to  assign  a  cause  for  that  which  appears 
so  natural. 

• 

Charles  E.  Leland,  on  hearing  the  unwel- 
come news,  said: 

"  The  stage  has  lost  one  of  its  noblest  orna- 
ments and  I  a  friend  such  as  a  man  is  only 
blessed  with  once  in  a  lifetime.  We  met  in 
'61,  and  when  our  acquaintance  ripened,  we 
took  a  room  at  the  Metropolitan,  together, 
where  we  lived  the  whole  winter.  John  was 
then  about  twenty -four,  full  of  life,  hope,  and 
promising  all  that  he  afterwards  became.  A 
more  estimable  gentleman,  a  more  lovable  man 
never  lived  than  John  McCullough,  and  many 
thousands  who  knew  him  and  loved  him  are 
saying  the  same  thing,  to-night,  as  the  sad 
tidings  travel  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 


188  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Pacific,  where  he  was  regarded  with  real 
affection,  and  where  many  have  been  helped 
by  his  generous  impulses." 

In  Boston  the  same  deep  sorrow  was  ex- 
pressed. Said  Harry  McGlennan,  of  the  Bos- 
ton Theatre,  "  I  have  known  John  McCullough 
for  many  years.  As  to  his  histrionic  ability 
there  is  but  one  conclusion,  that  he  was  with- 
out a  rival.  In  the  heroic,  like  Virginius 
he  left  no  equal  on  the  stage.  In  the  char- 
acters of  the  robust  and  virile,  the  strong  and 
those  where  the  better  phases  of  humanity 
are  developed,  he  was  peerless.  There  is  no 
actor  on  the  stage  who  combined  his  gener- 
osity of  heart  with  the  many  attributes  of 
the  gentleman  as  he.  His  death  will  be  much 
deplored." 

John  Stetson,  of  the. Globe  Theatre,  said: 
"  He  was  a  man  whose  every  thought  was  the 
alleviation  of  the  sufferings  of  his  fellow 
actors  and  a  man  to  whose  friendship  one 
might  trust  implicitly.  While  he  lived,  a 
friend  could  always  be  sure  of  a  true  friend's 
advice,  combined  with  the  more  substantial 
things  which  only  those  in  need  of  them  can 
appreciate." 

Kind-hearted  Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent,  the  soul 
of  benevolence  herself,  and  therefore  able  to 
appreciate  the  same  quality  in  others,  made 


SUNRISE  189 

this  comment:  "  I  knew  him  well.  He  was 
a  most  able  man  and  the  stage  will  sorely  miss 
him.  He  was  always  kind  and  affectionate, 
ever  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  a  brother, 
always  active  in  the  interest  of  aspirants  to 
fame,  always  cheerful  even  in  adversity.  The 
world  will  lose  in  him  one  whose  life  will  be 
always  a  true  example  of  honor,  genius  and 
munificence." 

A  writer  on  the  staff  of  the  Boston  Herald 
recalled  a  conversation  held  with  the  great 
tragedian  at  the  close  of  his  last  engagement 
in  this  city,  when  McCullough,  being  in  a 
retrospective  mood,  related  some  incidents 
in  his  professional  career,  some  of  them  un- 
pleasant, and  he  was  congratulated  by 
friends  present  on  having  reached  a  position 
where  he  could  look  back  with  complacency 
on  the  difficulties  which  had  confronted  him 
in  the  past. 

"You  can  now  command  success,"  was 
said. 

"Yes,"  was  the  actor's  reply,  "but  I  had 
to  conquer  it  first,  and  it  was  no  easy  con- 
quest." Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added,  "  Hard 
work  is,  after  all,  the  only  road  to  success." 

The  sentence  was  not  original,  but  it  was 
never  more  applicable.  McCullough  knew 
whereof  he  spoke. 


190  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

Upon  his  first  visit  to  Boston,  to  support 
Forrest  (whom  McCullough  always  idolized 
as  "the  greatest  actor  in  the  world,"  and  as 
a  man  "  with  a  heart  of  gold  ") ,  he  arrived  in 
the  city  with  twenty-five  cents  in  his  pocket, 
and  a  meagre  repertoire.  He  took  a  room  on 
the  top  floor  of  the  Tremont  House  and 
applied  himself  so  closely  to  study  that  he 
hardly  stopped  to  eat.  He  mastered  and 
played  fourteen  difficult  parts,  in  the  eight 
weeks  of  this  engagement,  all  entirely  new 
to  him,  a  task  of  tremendous  difficulty. 
Years  later,  he  once  remarked, 

"  I  would  like  to  see  the  play  bills  of  that 
era." 

The  book  containing  them  was  shown  to 
him.  After  scrutinizing  them  carefully,  he 
laid  down  the  book  with  a  sigh,  both  of 
regret  and  relief,  saying, 

"  I  pulled  through,  and  the  discipline, 
though  terribly  severe,  was  invaluable  to  me." 

Toil  of  the  hardest  kind  seemed  to  choose 
him  as  an  especial  mark.  In  those  early  days 
following  his  arrival  in  America,  his  position 
in  the  Philadelphia  Gas  Works  was  the  very 
lowest  place.  As  a  barrow  man,  his  business 
was  to  bring  coal  up  to  the  furnace,  dump 
the  cinders  and  carry  away  the  trash. 

Another  friend  recalled  an  episode  relating 


SUNRISE  191 

to  his  next  step  in  life,  as  an  apprentice  in 
the  chair-making  business.  For  after  he  had 
achieved  fame  as  an  actor,  and  was  visiting 
in  a  private  house  in  the  Quaker  City,  he 
noticed  an  old-fashioned  chair  in  the  room, 
with  the  comment  that  the  article  looked 
familiar,  and  turning  it  over,  found  his  own 
name  inscribed  in  a  scrawling  school-boy 
hand  upon  the  frame,  and  pointed  it  out  with 
the  proud  remark, 

."Ah,  my  boy,  my  work  was  done  to  last." 
McCullough's  old  partner  and  fellow  worker, 
Lawrence  Barrett,  was  playing  in  St.  Louis, 
when  the  tidings  reached  him,  and  he  was 
deeply  moved.  "  Poor  McCullough"  he  said, 
"  I  knew  him  as  intimately  as  any  one  else. 
He  was  a  generous,  genial,  large-hearted  man, 
full  of  charity,  too  much  so  probably  for  his 
own  good."  Then,  in  soliloquy,  while  he 
paced  the  floor  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him,  he  continued:  "  He  had  a  wonderful 
career  and  in  many  ways  was  a  wonderful 
man.  He  appealed  strongly  to  the  popular 
heart.  There  are  few  actors  whose  individu- 
ality was  recognized  so  quickly  and  who  gained 
such  a  large  share  in  the  affection  of  the  public. 
His  personality  was  so  charming,  he  made 
friends  of  all  he  met  and  that  too  without  any 


192  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

inconvenience  to  himself  or  any  loss  of  man- 
hood or  dignity." 

Mr.  Barrett  also  telegraphed  to  Mr.  Conner: 
' '  I  share  in  the  general  regret  for  the  death  of 
our  friend.  Offer  my  sincere  sympathy  to 
his  family  and  place  flowers  in  my  name  over 
the  remains  of  the  kindest  soul  that  ever  lived 
and  the  truest  friend." 

Scores  of  telegrams  of  condolence  were  re- 
ceived by  the  family,  among  these  messages 
of  sympathy  from  Edwin  Booth,  Mr.  Mc- 
Vicker,  from  John  W.  Mackay,  who  expressed 
the  regret  of  himself  and  McCullough's  friends 
on  the  Pacific  coast,  from  Mary  Anderson 
and  Madame  Modjeska,  expressing  her  affec- 
tion for  him  who  had  "  tutored  her  for  the 
British  stage." 

Mr.  Thompson  of  the  Boatmen's  Bank,  St. 
Louis,  a  close  friend  of  McCullough,  and  who 
first  induced  him  to  save  up  his  money  and 
who  invested  it  for  him  advantageously,  when 
interviewed  regarding  his  estate,  said:  "He 
usually  had  on  deposit  here  sums  ranging 
from  forty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars.  Every- 
thing in  the  way  of  stocks,  bonds,  notes  and 
other  property  was  left  in  my  hands  and 
aggregates  perhaps  seventy  thousand  dollars. ' ' 

The  tributes  of  respect  and  sincere  affection 
which  appeared  in  the  press  of  the  day,  were 


SUNRISE  193 

very  touching.  The  N.  Y.  Tribune  of  Novem- 
ber 9,  stated:  "  The  world  that  only  knew  him 
in  his  public  capacity  as  an  actor,  could  have 
but  an  imperfect  impression  of  his  spirit,  but 
nevertheless  honored  him  and  loved  him  with 
an  affection  surpassing  that  bestowed  upon 
almost  any  public  man  of  his  time.  He  was 
one  who  as  an  actor  spoke  from  the  heart  to 
the  heart,  and  this,  almost  without  our 
knowledge,  became  an  abiding  possession  of 
our  lives.  But  his  personal  friends  alone 
knew  how  worthy  he  was  to  be  honored  and 
loved.  He  was  a  noble  mind,  a  most  loving 
heart,  a  strong  and  gentle  spirit  and  an  ex- 
emplar who  always  cheered  and  strengthened. 
'  He  made  a  Heaven  about  him  here, 
And  took  how  much  with  him  away.'  ' 

Mr.  William  F.  Johnson  who  perhaps  knew 
him  more  intimately  than  any  other  friend, 
thus  analyzes  his  sterling  attributes: 

"  In  McCullough's  personal  character,  the 
qualities  which  first  attracted  interest  were 
modesty,  simplicity  and  manliness.  .  A  certain 
sweet  humility  was  natural  to  him.  He  never 
vaunted  himself.  He  never  was  unduly 
exalted.  He  took  success,  as  he  took  failure, 
with  meekness.  .  This  strain  of  modesty  ran 
through  his  conduct  because  it  was  inherent 
in  his  character.  He  knew  what  other  actors 


194  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

had  done,  and  he  knew  there  were  other 
heights  to  be  gained,  higher  than  any  that 
had  been  reached  by  him.  He  did  not  wish 
merely  to  be  called  a  great  actor;  he  wished 
to  be  a  great  actor,  and  acting  under  this 
desire  and  purpose  he  studied  and  labored  at 
all  times  to  make  the  utmost  that  could  be 
made  of  his  faculties  and  occasions.  .  .  .  He 
did  not  wear  his  heart  'upon  his  sleeve  for 
daws  to  peck  at, '  but  he  wore  his  heart  in 
his  bosom,  and  it  was  an  honest,  tender, 
manly  heart,  sympathetic  with  goodness, 
resentful  of  evil,  charitable  and  generous, 
faithful  in  its  affection,  and  easily  moved  to 
pity  and  to  kindness.  Wherever  he  went  he 
carried  this  charm  of  personal  worth  and  he 
found  instant  sympathy  and  kindness.  He 
was  naturally  cheerful.  His  bearing  and 
movements  had  the  composure  that  comes 
of  power.  His  smile  was  equally  indicative 
of  pleasure  in  life  and  kindness  toward  others. 
He  was  an  attractive  man  to  children,  to  all 
weak  or  helpless  persons,  to  all  such  natures 
as  lack  self-reliance  and  therefore  turn  in- 
stinctively toward  strength  and  sweetness. 
He  had  a  protective  air.  Safety  and  comfort 
seemed  to  enter  with  him  wherever  he  came. 
He  was  a  sturdy,  smiling  reality  of  beneficent 


SUNRISE  195 

goodness,  and  his  presence  encouraged  those 
who  work  and  cheered  those  who  suffer. ' ' 

The  Dramatic  News  of  November  10  pays 
this  tribute: 

"  In  the  death  of  McCullough  the  stage  loses 
one  of  its  most  conspicuous  figures.  Critics 
may  differ  as  to  the  abilities  and  accomplish- 
ments of  McCullough  as  an  actor,  but  the 
indisputable  fact  will  always  remain,  that  he 
attained  the  topmost  round  of  the  histrionic 
ladder  by  the  exercise  of  an  individuality 
that  is  wonderful  in  the  light  of  what  he  ac- 
complished. Such  a  career  as  McCullough 's 
should  awaken  the  fires  of  ambition  in  the 
soul  of  every  actor  in  the  land.  His  beginning 
was  the  lowest,  and  his  achievement  the  most 
brilliant.  Nor  will  McCullough  be  remem- 
bered alone  as  an  actor.  His  deeds  as  a  man 
have  endeared  him  to  thousands  of  hearts, 
and  his  honesty  and  generosity  compel  an 
admiration  as  sincere  and  abiding  as  that 
awarded  to  his  talents." 

A  writer  in  the  New  York  Mirror  of  Novem- 
ber 14  expresses  her  esteem  for  the  arisen 
friend  in  touching  terms: 

"A  multitude  of  friends  have  mourned 
over  the  still,  cold  form  of  John  McCullough. 
I  did  my  mourning  for  that  splendid  man 
nearly  three  years  ago.  He  was  playing  at 


196  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Niblo's,  I  think,  when,  one  afternoon  at  the 
Sturtevant  House,  I  had  several  hours'  talk 
with  him  on  a  subject  in  which  we  were  both 
interested,  and  I  went  home  convinced  that 
there  was  something  entirely  wrong  with  thef 
reasoning  faculties  of  my  dear  friend.  As  I 
thought  that  day's  conversation  over,  I  sat 
down  and  mourned  his  loss  as  his  friends  are 
doing  to-day. 

"  Dear  John  McCullough  left  the  homestead 
three  years  ago  and  to-day  they  are  putting 
under  ground  the  worn-out  habitation,  the 
dismantled  home  that  once  held  one  of  the 
kindliest,  sweetest,  noblest  men  God  ever 
made.  There  was  a  sympathetic  grip  in  his 
hand,  a  thrill  in  his  deep  voice,  an  earnestness 
in  his  handsome  face  that  made  his  presence 
to  any  one  in  sorrow  a  sustaining  comfort. 
There  was  a  hearty  ring  in  his  manly  tones,  a 
cordial  strength  in  his  welcome  clasp,  and 
a  thorough  enjoyment  of  everything  bright 
about  him,  that  made  him  the  most  .delightful 
companion  when  one  was  glad. 

"  Glorious  John  McCullough  !  The  sweet- 
ness of  that  slow,  tender  smile  that  broke 
across  the  sternness  of  a  naturally  sad  face, 
comes  back  to  me  continually — seen  always 
through  tears — for  one  loved  that  man  on 


SUNRISE  197 

account  of  that  smile  if  he  had  no  better 
reason. 

"  But  how  many  reasons  he  gave  the  world 
for  the  love  they  gave  him  !  Generous  in 
heart  and  hand,  faithful  in  friendship,  quick 
in  sensibility,  with  a  soul  as  sunny  as  a  child's 
and  tender  as  a  woman's,  he  won  most  men 
and  all  women.  How  deeply  he  took  hold  of 
the  affections  is  shown  to-day  when  so  much 
love  survives  his  long  absence,  to  put  away 
the  deserted  frame  that  held  the  beautiful 
picture,  with  a  grief  and  sorrow  that  seem 
born  of  recent  loss. 

"  You  would  think  to  look  on  Conner's  sad 
face,  to  meet  Florence's  dear  blue  eyes,  moist 
with  undisguised  tears,  to  hear  John  Carson's 
voice  tremble  as  he  mentions  him,  that  Mc- 
Cullough,  in  all  the  pride  of  his  glorious  man- 
hood, had  been  stricken  down  but  yesterday 
in  their  midst.  It  shows  how  dearly  we  all 
loved  him,  when,  after  these  weary  years 
without  him — now  that  the  image  that  stood 
for  him  is  broken  on  the  shrine — the  nearness 
of  his  loss  is  not  removed.  His  hands  hold  us 
still;  his  sweet  smile  has  not  faded  from  sight, 
but  with  a  sense  of  unconquerable  pain  we 
grieve  as  if  John  McCullough  was,  indeed, 
just  dead. 

"  To  name  those  men  who  are  most  sorrow- 


198  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

ful  to-day  about  his  grave,  is  to  mention  the 
best  and  finest  men  in  the  land.  And  I  feel 
very  happy  as  I  think  how  many  of  them 
I  count  as  my  personal  friends,  and  feel  that 
to  the  end  of  this  uncertain  life  a  bond  of 
friendship  between  us  will  be  the  love  we  held 
in  common,  and  the  sorrow  we  feel  for  John 
McCullough." 

In  the  same  issue  of  the  Mirror,  Fred  Lyster 
recounts  his  acquaintance  with  McCullough 
in  California,  in  1868,  "  when  he  was  a  hand- 
some, strapping,  broad-shouldered,  classic- 
faced  young  fellow,  full  of  life,  hope  and  fun, 
but  with  a  keen  eye  to  business,  as  well  as  an 
immense  favorite  with  the  public  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. He  was  always  ready  to  lend  a  helping 
hand  to  struggling  talent,  never  jealous  of 
another's  success,  amenable  to  counsel,  open 
to  conviction,  frank  and  free  in  manner. 
John  was  the  pleasantest  fellow  to  work  with 
I  ever  met." 

Among  his  supporters  and  co-workers,  Mr. 
Hubbell's  poetic  soul  at  this  sad  time  found 
fitting  expression  in  verse: 


SUNRISE  199 


JOHN  MoCULLOUGH. 

Born  1832  Died  1885. 

By  Walter  Hubbell. 

Farewell,  McCullough,  Nature's  noble  son  ! 

Thou  sincere  friend  and  honest  man,  farewell. 
None  knew  thee  but  to  honor  thy  great  worth, 
None  mourn  thee  more  than  those  who  tolled  thy 
knell. 

No  more  shall  thy  Virginius  teach  our  race, 
A  Roman  father  could  live  out  of  Rome; 

No  more  thy  Lucius  Junius  wring  our  hearts, 

Nor  Cade,  the  bondsman,  see  his  boyhood's  home. 

No  more  thy  hoary  Lear  in  madness  wrapped, 
Call  curses  on  his  thankless  daughter's  head, 

No  more  thy  Spartacus,  brave  Th'racian  youth, 
Fight  Gauls,  and  then  choose  Romans  for  his  dead. 

No  more  thy  Metamora  feel  those  wrongs 
Our  pale-faced  fathers  forced  him  to  endure. 

Alas  !  no  more  thy  Richelieu,  mark  the  ground 
Within  whose  circle  stood  his  ward  secure. 

Dead  art  thou  to  our  stage — not  so  thy  fame, 
Which  lives  to  shine  for  many  hundred  years, 

Thy  past,  kind,  genial  friend,  is  ever  ours, 
And  at  thy  tomb  we  offer  up  our  tears. 

This  poem  appeared  in  the  N.  Y.  Mirror  of  Nov.  28, 1885  and  was  widely 
copied  throughout  the  country. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

IMPRESSIVE  OBSEQUIES. 

"  His  sun  went  down  in  the  morning, 

While  all  was  fair  and  bright, 
But  'twas  not  an  eclipse  of  darkness 
That  hid  him  from  our  sight. 

For  the  valley  of  death  was  brighter 

Than  the  hills  of  life  he  trod, 
And  the  peace  that  fell  on  his  spirit, 

Was  the  calm,  deep  peace  of  God. 

His  sun  went  down  in  the  morning, 

While  all  was  fair  and  bright; 
But  it  shines  to-day  on  the  far-away  hills, 

In  the  land  that  knows  no  night." 

— Elmo. 

The  funeral  honors  paid  to  the  arisen 
tragedian  surpassed  in  character,  in  their  im- 
posing grandeur,  any  tribute  ever  bestowed 
upon  an  actor  in  this  country,  or  in  Europe, 
and  few  public  men  in  any  walk  of  life,  have 
ever  been  thus  honored.  For  once,  both 
church  and  stage  cordially  united  in  fraternal 
fellowship,  to  pay  fitting  tribute  to  a  man 
most  worthy  of  such  homage,  and  the  solemn 
obsequies  were  attended  by  all  classes  of 
people. 

Abundant  proofs  of  the  respect  and  affec-, 
tion  in  which  he  was  held  were  noticeable 

200 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  201 

throughout  the  city.  The  well  known  fea- 
tures in  crayon  or  in  photogravure  were  dis- 
played in  the  windows  of  the  newspaper  offices 
and  dry  goods  emporiums.  At  the  Chestnut 
Street  Opera  House,  where  it  was  McCul- 
lough's  custom  to  play  an  engagement  every 
Christmas  week,  a  huge  pillow  of  roses  bore 
the  inscription  in  immortelles  "  Exit  •  John 
McCullough,"  while  standing  back  of  this 
floral  tribute  was  a  large  and  heavily  draped 
portrait.  The  spacious  St.  George's  Hall  at 
the  corner  of  Arch  and  13th  Streets  was 
secured  for  the  services,  although  the  largest 
auditorium  in  the  city  would  have  proven 
insufficient  for  the  multitude  who  thronged 
to  do  him  honor. 

The  deserted  form  remained  in  the  front 
chamber  of  the  family  residence  until  Wednes- 
day evening,  when  his  faithful  servant,  Nutt, 
carried  it  down  to  the  parlor  and  prepared  it 
for  the  final  reception.  McCullough 's  dress 
suit  which  he  had  worn  at  dinners  and  recep- 
tions, and  which  he  last  had  on  at  a  banquet 
in  New  York,  had  been  brought  on  from  that 
city,  by  Mr.  Conner,  and  Nutt  very  carefully, 
tenderly,  dressed  him  in  it,  adding  gold  studs 
to  the  shirt-bosom,  and  patent  leather  boots 
to  his  feet.  In  the  button  hole  of  the  coat, 
he  placed  a  splendid  Gloire  de  Dijon  rose. 


202  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

The  waiting  casket  was  of  metal  with  a 
lining  of  cedar.  It  was  richly  upholstered 
with  black  cloth  and  ornamented  with  eight 
silver  handles  and  also  with  a  silver  hand  rail 
on  either  side.  The  plate  bore  the  simple 
inscription 

John  H.  McCullough. 

Died  Nov.  8,   1885 

In  his  53rd  year. 

When  placed  therein,  a  friend  observed, 
"Virginius  never  looked  more  noble  in  life 
than  in  death.  The  light  of  the  late  month's 
wandering  having  fled  from  his  face,  there 
was  nothing  to  distract  from  the  contem- 
plation of  the  beauty  of  the  dead. ' ' 

Before  the  simple  services  for  the  family  and 
relatives  took  place  on  Wednesday  evening, 
it  was  decided  to  give  the  neighbors  and  poor 
people  of  Kensington  an  opportunity  to  view 
the  loved  remains,  for  while  they  were  to  lie  in 
state  for  some  hours  in  St.  George's  Hall,  it 
would  conserve  both  the  time  and  expense  of 
the  laboring  class,  many  of  whom  had  been 
recipients  of  McCullough 's  large  bounty,  to  be 
accorded  this  privilege.  Consequently,  by 
the  earnest  desire  of  Mrs.  McCullough,  the 
doors  of  this  dwelling  were  thrown  open,  and 
fully  three  thousand  people  passed  in  to  take 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  203 

a  hurried  look  at  the  familiar  face  and  then 
gained  exit  by  the  rear  doors. 

About  forty  were  present  at  the  private 
service,  including,  besides  the  widow,  Mc- 
Cullough's  two  sons  (who  strongly  resembled 
him  although  much  smaller  men),  Mrs.  James 
McCullough,  his  daughter-in-law;  Letitia,  the 
grand-daughter,  his  sister,  Mrs.  Wert  and 
others.  At  9.30,  Rev.  Robert  Hunter  of  the 
Kensington  Presbyterian  church,  where  the 
McCullough  family  attended  divine  worship, 
made  a  short  address  and  a  choir  from  that 
church  sang  "On  smiling  and  weeping,"  and 
"It  is  well  with  my  soul."  The  eldest  son, 
much  overcome  by  his  great  loss,  sat  by  the 
casket  and  kissed  the  dead  face  repeatedly. 

Just  before  midnight,  the  body  was  con- 
veyed to  the  Hall,  but  even  at  that  late  hour, 
a  large  concourse  of  people  followed  the  hearse 
through  its  two  mile  course,  thither.  On 
arrival  at  the  portals  of  St.  George's  Hall,  the 
casket  was  received  by  a  delegation  from  the 
Philadelphia  Branch  of  the  Benevolent  Order 
of  Elks,  who  stood  beside  the  catafalque  as  a 
guard  of  honor  throughout  the  night,  while 
florists  and  decorators  worked  several  hours 
until,  at  daybreak,  hardly  an  inch  of  the 
walls  of  the  Hall  were  visible,  being  eclipsed 
by  heavy  drapery  of  black  cloth  fastened  at 


204'  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

the  cornice  with  huge  fan-shaped  rosettes. 
On  each  side  of  the  rostrum,  where  two  large 
portraits  of  the  tragedian  were  placed,  one  as 
Virginius,  and  one  in  citizen's  dress,  were 
marble  statues  and  these  were  wound  with 
black,  contrasting  strongly  with  their  white 
outlines,  revealed  against  the  heavy  folds  of 
black  drapery  at  the  rear  of  the  platform. 
The  small  stage  was  transformed  into  an  altar 
surrounded  by  branching  ferns  and  palms, 
and  frgm  near  and  far  came  innumerable 
floral  tributes  of  reverence  for  the  departed 
hero.  No  man  in  the  profession  ever  had  so 
many  warm,  devoted  friends  and  hundreds 
came  to  express  their  homage  and  deep 
respect. 

At  8  a.  m.  the  public  were  allowed  ad- 
mission by  ticket  to  view  the  remains  as  they 
lay  in  state,  and  for  two  hours  and  a  half,  a 
stream  of  people  passed  by  the  bier,  at  the 
rate  of  forty  a  minute ;  but  while  it  is  estimated 
that  eight  thousand  people  entered  the  Hall, 
over  ten  thousand  failed  to  gain  that  privilege, 
while  the  surging  crowd,  pressing  toward  the 
entrance  in  the  street  below,  effectually 
blocked  the  passage  of  cars  and  carriages  as 
well  as  of  pedestrians.  Even  ten  and  fifteen 
dollars  were  offered  for  the  possession  of  a 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  205 

ticket.  And  as  the  New  York  World  of  that 
date  testified: 

"  It  was  not  simply  idle  curiosity  that  took 
those  crowds  to  the  Hall  and  kept  them  there 
for  six  hours  or  more,  but  a  sincere  grief  for  the 
loss  of  so  great  and  noble  a  man.  It  was  a 
respectful,  grief-stricken  throng  that  moved 
silently  along  in  an  unbroken  stream." 

It  was  not  an  earthly  monarch  who  com- 
manded this  homage,  but  a  kingly  man,  with 
a  regal  soul,  who  by  his  own  innate  nobility 
was  thus  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  the  people, 
and  this  is  a  royalty  that  can  be  attained  by 
every  mortal,  even  while  wearing  these  bonds 
of  clay. 

At  10. SO  the  doors  on  the  13th  Street  side  of 
the  building  were  closed  and  entrance  to  the 
services  was  made  from  the  Arch  Street  side 
of  the  Hall.  Cards  of  admission  were  black 
bordered  and  inscribed  with  the  words 

"  McCullough  Obsequies.     Admit  one." 

The  family  of  the  deceased  was  first  con- 
ducted to  seats  near  the  flower-crowned  bier. 
Other  seats  were  reserved  for  a  very  large 
delegation  of  professional  friends  who  came 
on  a  special  train  from  New  York,  the  hour 
for  the  services  being  an  early  one,  to  allow 
those  who  were  actors  to  return  by  afternoon 
train  to  their  evening  engagements.  Dele- 


206  JOHN     McCU-LLOUGH 

gations  from  the  Order  of  Elks  were  also 
present  from  New  York,  St.  Louis,  Pittsburg, 
Cincinnati,  Cleveland,  Boston  and  Jersey 
City.  The  musicians  and  vocalists  were 
placed  in  the  balcony  at  the  rear  of  the  Hall. 

The  solemn  services,  which  lasted  over  two 
hours,  began  with  a  musical  offertory  from 
the  combined  orchestras  of  the  Chestnut 
Street  Theatre  and  Opera  House  and  led  by 
Simon  Hassler.  Scriptural  selections  were 
read  by  Rev.  Robert  Hunter  and  then  Miss 
Bertha  Ricci  sang  "Nearer  my  God  to  thee." 
Prayer  followed  'by  Rev.  Dr.  John  S.  Mac- 
intosh of  the  Second  Presbyterian  church, 
who  was  invited  to  take  a  prominent  part  in 
the  services  because,  like  McCullougJi,  he  was 
of  Scotch-Irish  descent.  A  solo,  "  After  toil 
cometh  rest,"  was  then  rendered  by  W.  H. 
Morton,  manager  of  McCaull's  Opera  House. 

The  first  address  was  given  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Hunter  who,  although  he  had  not  the  pleasure 
of  McCullough's  close  acquaintance,  had  by 
his  pastoral  connection  with  his  family,  seen 
ample  proof  of  the  actor's  large-hearted 
generosity  and  chivalric  regard,  which  so 
liberally  provided  for  their  comfort  and  sup- 
port, and  he  could  thus  speak  intelligently 
of  the  deceased,  in  tones  of  deepest  respect. 

"  The  death  of  John  McCullough  is  in  a  very 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  207 

significant  sense  a  universal  bereavement. 
Who  has  not  heard  his  name?  Who  has  not 
known  something  of  his  brilliant  career? 
Who  has  not  admired  his  genius?  But  bril- 
liant intellectual  power  and  great  genius  are 
often  associated  with  coldness  of  heart  and 
almost  utter  lack  of  human  sympathy.  In 
the  friend  whose  departure  we  mourn  to-day, 
there  was  greatness  of  heart  and  this  it  was 
that,  like  a  powerful  spiritual  magnet,  at- 
tracted and  gathered  around  him  from  all 
ranks  and  classes  and  from  all  parts  of  the 
vast  country,  and  beyond  it,  an  almost  in- 
numerable company  of  the  warmest,  most 
honest,  most  devoted  and  most  constant 
friends. 

"As  I  look  over 'this  vast  audience,  and  as 
I  read  in  your  faces  the  sorrow  of  your  hearts, 
as  I  think  that  many  of  you  have  traveled 
hundreds  of  miles  to  be  here  to-day,  I  am 
reminded  of  tens,  yes,  of  hundreds  and  of 
thousands  whose  sorrow  is  just  as  keen,  and 
whose  sympathy  is  just  as  warm,  but  who 
cannot  be  here  to-day.  When  I  think  of  how 
many  have  by  wire  and  by  mail  attempted 
to  express  the  feelings  of  their  hearts  and  to 
convey  words  of  condolence  to  the  bereaved 
family,  and  how  many  more  would  have  done 
so  but  for  the  modest  consideration  that  they 


208  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

might  possibly  be  intruding  at  a  moment  when 
the  bereaved  and  sorrow-stricken  relatives 
might  choose  to  be  alone  with  the  Divine 
Comforter;  when  I  think  of  all  this,  I  cannot 
be  insensible  to  the  difficulty  of  meeting  your 
expectations  and  satisfying  your  sorrowing 
hearts  by  anything  that  I  may  say. 

"There  is  a  deep,  pervading  sympathy,  a 
subdued  and  silent  sorrow,  to  which  no  addi- 
tion can  be  made  by  any  words  that  may  be 
spoken  on  this  occasion.  I  am  here  as  the 
pastor  of  the  bereaved  family  of  our  departed 
friend  to  join  with  you  in  paying  our  last 
tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  one  who 
has  in  the  varied  relations  of  life,  endeared 
himself  to  so  many. ' ' 

A  quartette  of  male  voices  from  the  Carn- 
cross  Opera  Company  then  sang  "  Jesus  Lover 
of  my  Soul,"  to  the  music  of  "When  the 
Swallows  Homeward  Fly,"  both  hymn  and 
melody  being  favorites  with  their  departed 
friend. 

Next  on  the  program,  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  Mac- 
intosh preached  a  sermon  about  thirty 
minutes  in  length,  in  which  a  very  grand 
picture  of  the  nobility  of  McCullough's  char- 
acter was  drawn,  closing  by  a  portrayal  of 
his  struggles,  and  emphasizing  the  lessons 
they  teach. 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  209 

"  I  see,"  said  he,  "  a  great  drama,  a  finished 
drama  and  a  fallen  curtain.  I  see  as  the  first 
act,  the  lonely  boy  on  the  city  streets.  The 
poor  lad  stands  a  stranger  in  this  strange 
land,  seeking  a  friend  and  searching  for  a 
home.  Homeless,  friendless,  he  looks  out 
wearily  for  a  friend  and  wonders  with  a  sinking 
heart  where  he  shall  find  a  home. 

"  In  the  next  act  our  eyes  rest  on  a  joiner's 
apprentice,  looking  out  wistfully  through  a 
just  opened  door  upon  another  life.  It  is  an 
humble  scene.  The  third  act  of  this  death- 
sealed  drama  presents  this  young  student  of 
his  art,  face  to  face  with  a  great  model.  The 
fourth  act  shows  us  the  matured  man  of  roman- 
tic friendships,  and  the  most  chivalric  faith- 
fulness. The  feature  of  this  period  is  the  pay- 
ment for  a  second  time  of  a  debt  that  had  been 
paid  in  full. 

"Act  fifth  begins  the  end.  The  drama 
grows  tragic.  It  is  a  sick  room  with  the 
patient  watchers,  the  ministering  angel  by 
his  side.  He  cannot  speak,  for  his  tongue  has 
lost  its  cunning.  Then  the  curtain  falls. 
The  lights  are  out  and  all  is  still." 

Following  another  orchestral  selection,  the 
funeral  oration  was  delivered  in  a  most 
touching  and  sympathetic  manner  by  Mr. 


210  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

Henry  Edwards  of  Wallack's  Theatre,  a 
warm  friend  of  the  deceased: 

"  It  has  been  well  and  wisely  said  by  one 
of  the  greatest  of  mankind  that 

'  Death  hath  no  tortures  for  a  mind  resolved — 
It  is  as  natural  as  to  be  born.' 

But  though  the  messages  of  the  conqueror 
reach  us  day  by  day;  though  the  touch  of  his 
hand  falls  hour  by  hour  upon  some  familiar 
form;  though  the  symbols  of  his  presence  are 
ever  before  our  gaze,  it  is  only  when  we  stand 
as  we  do  to-day,  beside  the  inanimate  body 
of  one  we  loved,  and  wander  in  thought  over 
the  past  years,  strewn  with  gentle  recollec- 
tions of  the  one  who  has  gone  before,  that 
we  can  realize  the  power  of  the  destroyer,  or 
appreciate  the  unerring  certainty  of  that  stroke 
which  must  eventually  be  dealt  to  all  by  the 
'  reaper  whose  name  is  Death. '  We  come  to- 
gether to-day  to  look  our  last  upon  the  features 
of  a  cherished  friend,  who  had  no  enemy  in 
his  life,  and  who  goes  to  his  last  sleep,  blessed 
by  the  prayers  and  the  tears  of  thousands.  We 
come  to  offer  our  homage  to  his  genius,  to 
pay  our  earnest  tribute  of  respect  to  the 
worth  and  grandeur  of  his  character.  We 
come  to  testify  to  the  love  we  bore  him,  to 
recall  the  memory  of  his  many  kindnesses, 
and  to  bear  him  with  tender  hands  and  loving 
hearts,  hearts  bowed  down  by  the  weight  of 
an  affectionate  sorrow,  to  his  final  worldly 
home.  It  has  been  thought  well  that  a  few 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  211 

words  might  be  said  on  this  occasion  by  one 
associated  professionally  with  him,  and  though 
there  are  many  better  fitted  than  myself  to 
perform  this  task,  there  are  few  who  have 
had  wider  opportunities  of  knowing  the  intri- 
cacies of  his  nature,  and  of  observing  the 
growth  of  his  mind;  and  surely  none  who 
more  valued  and  admired  him  for  his  un- 
flinching heroism,  for  the  unstinted  devotion 
which  he  displayed  toward  his  chosen  calling, 
or  for  the  unbounded  and  unselfish  gener- 
osity which  marked  his  life. 

"Twenty  years  have  nearly  passed  since, 
upon  the  far-off  shores  of  the  Pacific,  I  first 
met  John  McCullough.  He  was  then  just 
concluding  in  San  Francisco  an  engagement 
with  his  great  preceptor  and  friend,  Edwin 
Forrest — an  engagement  doomed  to  be  the 
last  they  should  ever  play  together.  He  had 
already  made  for  himself  a  name,  being 
regarded  as  one  of  the  young  tragedians  who 
had  before  him  a  bright  and  glowing  future, 
and  the  kind-hearted  people  among  whom 
his  lot  was  then  cast,  holding  their  arms  open 
to  the  aspiring  artist,  took  him  to  their  hearts 
as  their  protege  and  friend,  and  induced  him 
to  make  their  city  his  home.  For  nearly  nine 
years  he  lived  amongst  them,  and  though  it 
is  not  my  purpose  to  allude  at  length  to  his 
career,  as  that  has  been  already  sketched  in 
the  fullest  manner  by  the  journals  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  I  feel 
myself  compelled  to  touch  briefly  upon  his 
management  of  the  California  Theatre,  where 


212  JOHN    McCULLOVGH 

in  conjunction  with  Lawrence  Barrett,  he 
inaugurated  an  era  of  theatrical  representa- 
tions second  to  none  which  have  been  given 
in  his  time,  and  raised  the  drama  on  the 
Pacific  coast  to  a  condition  which  it  had  never 
known  before,  and  which  may  fitly  be  called 
its  'Golden  Age.'  If  the  names  of  the  com- 
pany which  he  selected,  be  written  now,  there 
will  be  found  among  them  those  of  most  of 
the  eminent  actors  and  actresses  of  to-day, 
who,  graduating  from  that  admirable  school, 
have  since  fought  their  way  to  the  highest 
place  of  their  profession.  It  was  toward  the 
more  legitimate  drama  that  our  friend's  tastes 
and  inclinations  always  directed  him,  and 
the  productions  of '  Coriolanus,  * '  Julius  Caesar, ' 
'  Hamlet, '  '  Cymbeline, '  and  others,  were  such 
as  have  rarely  been  equalled  upon  the 
English-speaking  stage.  He  was  the  means 
also  of  drawing  toward  a  then  little  known 
region  the  more  prominent  actors .  of  the 
country,  and  displayed  throughout  his  man- 
agement an  enterprise  and  liberality  as  honor- 
able as  they  are  rare.  There  is  not  an  artist 
to-day  who  played  in  the  Califorina  Theatre 
when  it  was  under  McCullough's  direction, 
but  will  bear  ample  testimony  to  the  almost 
lavish  generosity  which  characterized  his 
mounting  of  their  plays,  to  the  care  with 
which  all  matters  of  business  outside  of  the 
theatre  walls  were  watched  and  tended,  to. 
the  great  excellence  of  the  supporting  com- 
pany, and,  more  than  all,  to  the  atmosphere 
of  thoughtful  kindness  which  pervaded  the 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  213 

place  and  made  every  one  who  came  within 
its  influence  experience  the  calm  comforts  of 
a  home. 

"  I  know  well  that  it  is  somewhat  the 
fashion  to  decry  actors  as  men  of  business,  and 
in  this  regard  our  poor  friend  has  not  escaped; 
but  the  amount  of  thought  and  skill  required 
to  work  to  perfection  the  machinery  of  a 
theatre  needs  to  be  great  indeed,  and  to  find 
a  man  competent  in  every  department  is 
almost  impossible;  but  in  all  that  pertains  to 
the  absolute  knowledge  of  the  stage  and  its 
own  particular  requirements,  John  McCul- 
lough  was  thoroughly  at  home,  and  had  he 
not  been  a  great  actor  he  would,  by  the  force 
of  his  love  for  his  profession,  have  made  an 
admirable  manager.  It  is  true  that  he  dis- 
liked the  position,  but  that  by  no  means 
interfered  with  his  capacity  for  filling  it;  and 
perhaps  few  men  ever  lived  who  possessed  in 
so  great  a  degree  the  rare  and  valuable  quality 
of  smoothing  down  differences,  and  of  making 
the  rough  paths  of  labor  bright  and  pleasant 
for  those  who  had  to  tread  them.  By-  his  own 
personal  magnetism,  he  drew  not  only  the 
warmest  interest,  but  the  affection  of  his 
people  toward  him,  and  they  felt  that  the 
success  of  their  leader  was  as  dear  to  them 
as  their  own.  A  harsh  word,  even  among  the 
many  tempers  and  dispositions  with  which  he 
had  to  contend,  seldom  escaped  his  lips,  and 
if  it  were  ever  uttered  it  was  regretted  as  soon 
as  said.  No  one  ever  approached  him  in  a 
good  cause  without  finding  an  attentive  and 


214  JOHfJ     McCULLOUGH 

sympathetic  listener,  and  the  instances  are 
not  few  in  which  his  own  interest  was  freely 
sacrificed  for  the  benefit  of  others.  Truly 
may  it  be  said  of  him  that  he  had  ever 

'  A  tear  for  pity,  and  a  hand 
Open  as  day  for  melting  charity.' 

To  every  worthy  purpose  his  professional 
services  and  his  theatre  were  freely  given,  and 
the  amounts  yearly  bestowed  in  aiding  mis- 
fortune and  succoring  distress  were  such  as  to 
reduce,  sometimes,  to  a  very  small  sum  the 
profits  of  the  season.  But  he  seemed  to  hold 
his  position  in  trust  for  the  good  of  his  fellows, 
and  to  experience  to  the  very  full  that  '  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.' 

"Another  remarkable  feature  of  his  nature 
was  his  uniform  evenness  of  temper.  Whether 
shadowed  by  misfortune,  tortured  by  sick- 
ness, or  hampered  by  the  cares  of  a  busy  life, 
he  had  always  the  same  gentle  smile,  the 
same  friendly  grasp,  the  same  warm  and 
welcoming  words.  No  change  of  condition 
ever  affected  his  character,  and  whether  as 
the  struggling  man  looking  longingly,  yet  half 
despairingly,  toward  the  goal  which  he  hoped 
one  day  to  win,  or  the  distinguished  actor, 
worshipped  by  admiring  crowds,  the  end  of 
his  ambition  attained,  and  the  rewards  which 
attend  successful  endeavor  strewn  before  his 
steps,  he  was  still  the  same  genial  friend,  the 
same  warm-hearted  companion,  the  same  kind 
and  friendly  associate  as  of  old.  Who  is  there 
amongst  us  that  has  had  the  privilege  of  his 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  215 

friendship,  that  has  not  known  this  of  him? 
Who  is  there  that  will* not  bear  witness  to 
some  single-hearted,  unselfish,  generous  deed, 
some  kindly  thought  that  cannot  be  forgot- 
ten? Throughout  our  long  companionship 
I  can  recall  no  mean  or  paltry  act,  no  shrink- 
ing from  the  duties  of  life,  no  neglect  or  forget- 
fulness  of  the  friend  who  ever  served  or  aided 
him;  and  on  the  other  hand  I  do  remember 
hundreds  of  good  deeds  done  by  stealth, 
hundreds  of  noble  actions  performed  in  silence, 
and  made  the  purer  and  the  brighter  because 
of  the  secrecy  by  which  they  were  surrounded. 
And,  as  it  was  remarked  on  a  somewhat 
similar  occasion  to  this,  by  one  of  the  greatest 
orators  of  America,  '  If  every  one  to  whom  he 
did  a  loving  service  were  to  carry  a  blossom 
to  his  grave  he  would  sleep  to-night  beneath 
a  wilderness  of  flowers.' 

"Who  does  not  recollect  too,  the  singular 
influence  of  his  sunny  nature,  the  laugh  that 
sparkled  in  his  eye,  the  fun  that  bubbled 
upon  his  lip,  the  merry  tales  that  sometimes 
'kept  the  table  on  a  roar,'  or  the  joyous 
humor  with  which  he  touched  the  eccentric- 
ities of  his  comrades,  or  told  characteristic 
anecdotes  of  those  by  whom  he  had  been 
surrounded?  No  one  more  than  himself 
could  appreciate  the  disadvantages  of  his 
early  life;  and  the  honest  industry  by  which 
he  rose  out  of  the  position  in  which  fortune 
had  placed  him,  and  struggled  to  obtain  the 
knowledge  fitting  him  for  that  to  which  he 
aspired,  is  as  worthy  of  admiration  as  of 


216  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

praise.  The  fund  of  information  which  he 
had*  gathered  was  wonderful  in  its  range  of 
subjects,  and  upon  all  matters  connected  with 
his  profession  he  spoke  with  power  and 
authority.  Always  a  good  listener,  he  knew 
well  when  the  right  word  should  be  said,  and 
when  spoken  it  was  with  clearness,  force  and 
dignity.  He  marked  out  a  path  for  himself, 
and  heedless  of  obstacles,  he  trod  it  to  the 
end.  He  swept  aside  the  obstructions  before 
him,  and  by  the  force  of  sheer  determination 
and  energy  he  marched  like  a  conqueror  to 
his  throne.  But  he  knew  no  petty  jealousies, 
and  the  leaves  from  his  laurel  crown  were 
freely  distributed  among  his  younger  and  less 
eminent  brethren,  whom  he  was  ever  ready 
to  aid  by  his  advice  and  experience,  with 
whose  struggles  he  sympathized  because  they 
resembled  those  of  his  own  early  days.  And 
beyond  this,  so  open-hearted  and  so  singularly 
generous  was  his  character,  that  he  excited 
no  jealousy  in  others,  but  every  step  on  his 
upward  path  was  regarded  with  honest  pride 
and  rejoicing  by  his  comrades,  who  joyed  in 
all  that  elevated  him,  and  who,  loving  him 
with  more  than  brothers'  affection,  regarded 
his  triumphs  as  their  own.  No  man  ever  col- 
lected around  him  a  greater  host  of  friends 
than  he  did,  and  no  man  will  linger  longer  in 
the  sweetest  memories  of  their  souls  than 
John  McCullough.  The  great  concourse  as- 
sembled here  to-day  is  a  distinct  evidence 
of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  publicly 
held,  and  I  speak  with  certainty  when  I  say 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  217 

that  could  he  have  chosen  the  place  in  which 
he  would  prefer  to  '  look  his  last  of  earth  and 
sky,'  it  would  have  been  this  very  city  of 
Philadelphia,  a  city  which  he  always  loved 
so  well,  and  in  which  he  first  began  to  mount 
the  ladder  of  his  fame.  It  seems  to  have  been 
in  the  very  fitness  of  things  that  after  his 
years  of  toil  and  struggle,  when  struck  down 
in  the  strength  of  his  manhood  by  the  disease 
which  mastered  him,  he  should  be  permitted 
'  Here  to  return  and  die  at  home  at  last. ' 

And  I  may  be  allowed  here  to  remark  that 
his  brilliant  friend  and  teacher,  Edwin  Forrest, 
and  his  beloved  companion,  Edwin  Adams, 
also  died  in  this  city,  and  yielded  up  their 
breath  on  the  same  day  of  the  week  as  that 
which  witnessed  the  departure  of  our  friend. 
But,  alas  !  that  such  a  man  should  so  soon, 
in  the  pride  of  his  career,  become  but  a  mem- 
ory, and  that  he  should  have  been  called  so 
early  away,  not  only  from  the  stage  which 
he  adorned  and  elevated,  but  from  the  wider 
stage  of  a  life  which  had  so  much  of  promise 
and  so  rich  a  harvest  of  fame  and  fortune  yet 
to  be  reaped  and  gathered.  'To  our  dim 
vision  all  seems  hard  and  strange,' — the  mys- 
teries of  this  life  of  ours  are  beyond  our  ken; 
but  as  we  sometimes  stand  upon  the  seashore 
and  look  with  longing  eyes  upon  the  seemingly 
limitless  waste,  wondering  at  the  nature  of 
the  countries  that  lie  beyond,  so  may  we  stand 
in  the  presence  of  death,  and,  crossing  by  our 
inner  self  the  great  dividing  line  between  life 


218  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

and  immortality,  gaze  with  speculative  sight 
across  the  mysterious  river,  and  behold  the 
forms  of  those  who  are  'not  lost  but  gone 
before. ' 

"  And  in  such  moments  of  peaceful  contem- 
plation can  we  not  see  our  friend  again  before 
us,  smiling  on  us  with  a  holy  smile,  and  bid- 
ding us  be  comforted,  giving  us  the  assurance 
that  he  is  still  near  us,  shedding  a  peaceful 
influence  about  our  life,  and  telling  us  that 
'souls  once  united  in  the  bonds  of  love  can 
never  be  dissevered,  and  the  universe,  still 
held  together  by  the  same  great  power,  must 
perish  before  this  divine  ordinance  can  be 
broken. ' 

"  He  has  left  an  example  to  imitate  and 
follow — an  example  of  earnest  energy  and 
perseverance;  an  example  of  a  noble,  gen- 
erous and  manly  character;  an  example  of 
patience  under  difficulties  rarely  met  with  in 
life,  and  an  example  of  as  honest  and  tender 
a  soul  as  ever  blessed  our  earthly  pilgrimage, 
and  made  us  thankful  that  such  as  he  can 
come  within  the  orbits  of  our  lives.  Farewell, 
then,  gentle  friend,  faithful  comrade,  loving 
brother,  fare  you  well  !  We  part  from  you 
with  sadness  in  our  souls;  but  as  through  our 
tear-filled  eyes,  we  look  our  last  on  your 
familiar  features,  we  bless  the  Father  that 
He  has  shortened  your  sufferings  on  earth,  and 
we  pray  your  happiness  in  your  eternal  home, 
whither  the  youngest  and  bravest  of  us  soon 
shall  follow  you  !  The  flowers  which  adorn 
your  coffin  are  emblems  of  the  purity  of  that 


IMPRESSIVE    OBSEQUIES  219 

affection  which  will  accompany  you  to  your 
grave,  which,  unlike  them,  can  never  fade,  but 
in  the  long  years  to  come  'will  keep  your 
memory  green.'  And  though  we  would  have 
kept  you  with  us  for  a  longer  space,  we  mur- 
mur not  at  a  higher  and  wiser  decree  than  any 
we  can  utter,  and  with  our  souls  swelling  with 
love  and  tenderness  for  you,  old  friend,  we 
will  endeavor  to  comfort  your  sorrowing  one 
with  the  trusting  thought  that '  It  is  well. '  : 

The  closing  remarks  by  McCullough's 
devoted  friend,  Counsellor  W.  F.  Johnson, 
.were  deeply  affecting  to  the  grief-stricken 
assembly  and  fittingly  concluded  these  im- 
pressive ceremonies. 

During  the  tender,  plaintive  strains  of  an 
orchestral  dirge,  the  casket  was  lifted  by  the 
Elks  who  had  guarded  it  so  faithfully  since 
midnight,  and  borne  down  the  long  central 
aisle,  followed,  by  the  family  and  pall  bearers, 
who  had  been  chosen  from  among  his  closest 
friends.  They  were  William  J.  Florence,  John 
B.  Carson,  W.  H.  Thompson,  William  M. 
Conner,  William  F.  Johnson,  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son, M.  W.  Canning,  William  Winter,  Henry 
Edwards,  J.  W.  Collier  and  John  A.  Cockerill. 

Mr.  Edwin  Booth  and  Lawrence  Barrett 
were  prevented  by  their  enforced  absence 
from  officiating  on  this  solemn  occasion. 


220  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

The  procession  to  Monument  Cemetery, 
where  the  remains  were  interred  in  a  tomb 
until  the  site  of  their  final  resting  place  should 
be  determined,  was  headed  by  the  Actors' 
Fund  and  a  band  of  musicians.  The  hearse 
was  drawn  by  four  black  horses  and  followed 
by  nearly  two  hundred  carriages,  with  a  long 
procession  of  friends  on  foot. 

Fully  five  thousand  people  gathered  in  the 
Cemetery  grounds  where  the  impressive  cere- 
mony of  the  Elks  was  performed.  As  the 
deceased  was  a  member  of  the  St.  Louis  Lodge 
of  Elks,  it  devolved  upon  the  highest  officer, 
of  that  body  present,  Mr.  Charles  R.  Pope, 
to  assume  charge,  but  he  resigned  his  prerog- 
ative to  Mr.  Harry  Sanderson  of  the  New 
York  Lodge,  and  Grand  Exalted  Ruler  of  the 
entire  order.  A  beautiful  feature  of  these 
concluding  rites  was  the  music  furnished  by 
the  Carncross  Quartette  of  male  voices. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

FURTHER  TRIBUTES. 

"  This  is  not  he — this  piece  of  marble — 

That  you  drop  as  you  pass  your  tears  upon, 
That  you  deck  with  palms  and  pallid  lilies; 
The  noble  prince  whom  you  loved  is  gone. 

'Gone?'  did  I  say?    'Midst  your  quiet  footsteps, 
That  slowly  pace  by  the  side  of  the  dead, 

Hear  you  no  stir  of  his  trailing  garments? 
Mark 'you  no  sound  of  his  royal  tread? 

He  moves  among  you,  unseen,  unnoted, 
He  lays  his  hand  on  the  still  cold  face — 

That  cast  off  mask  he  had  worn  among  you; 
Beside  his  comrades  he  takes  his  place. 

O  closed,  locked  doors  !   O  harp-strings  broken! 

O  perishable,  fleeting  breath  ! 
These  are  the  words  you  murmur,  murmur, 
While  he — he  knows  not  death. 

These  are  the  words  you  murmur,  murmur, 
While  -he  stands  apart  in  a  strange  surprise. 

O  could  he  tell  what  your  ear  unheedeth  ! 
O  could  he  tear  the  veil  from  your  eyes  ! 

Life's  song  has  lost  no  note  of  sweetness; 

Across  life's  harp  sweeps  a  living  breath. 
His  only  pain  is  your  pain — your  blindness — 

He  lives  !   He  lives!  He  knows  not  death. 

In  the  dark  hushed  Hall,  those  who  had  loved  him 
Draw  near  the  pale  form,  speaking  low  of  his 

worth, 

Of  his  honor,  his  grace,  his  high  exaltation; 
But  not  one  of  them  all  heard  this  message  of 
truth." 

— Annie  J.  C.  Norris. 

221 


222  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Among  the  notable  assembly  that  gathered 
to  pay  the  last  tributes  of  respect  and  affection 
to  the  lamented  friend,  very  few  now  remain 
on  the  mortal  plane  of  life,  save  in  pleasant 
memory.  But  many  of  these  names  it  is  a 
delight  to  recall.  Among  those  who  came 
from  New  York  by  special  train  can  be 
mentioned  one  whose  heart  is  perennially 
young,  and  who  is  still  with  us  -  -  Joseph 
Jefferson.  Others  were  W.  J.  Florence,  Henry 
S.  Sanderson,  Edward  G.  Gilmore,  James  W. 
Collier,  Henry  E.  Dixie,  Arthur  Wallack, 
Marcus  Mayer,  Edward  Harrigan,  John  F. 
Poole,  R.  M.  Hooley  of  Chicago,  Col.  Sinn  of 
Brooklyn,  Walter  Hubbell,  Edward  Knowles, 
Joseph  Haworth,  Ben  Maginley,  Benjamin 
Baker,  Henry  Edwards,  Andrew  J.  Dam,  Jr., 
John  Matthews,  Harry  Eytyinge,  Nelson 
Decker,  Harry  Peakes,  J.  J.  Spies,  Eugene 
Tompkins  of  Boston,  C.  P.  Parloe,  Joseph 
Wheelock,  Charles  Wheatley,  Harrison  Grey 
Fiske,  Harry  Watkins,  R.  R.  Miles,  William 
Henderson,  F.  J.  Maeder,  Harry  Brown,  Mrs. 
Augusta  Foster,  Miss  Louise  Eldridge,  Mrs. 
Rose  Leland,  Manageress  of  Albany,  Mrs.  W. 
Birch  and  Miss  Alice  Brown. 

Others  present  were  Charles  Pope,  pro- 
prietor of  the  Pope  Theatre,  in  St.  Louis,  the 
managers  of  all  the  Philadelphia  theatres, 


FURTHER    TRIBUTES  223 

Messrs.  Rapley  of  the  National  Theatre, 
Washington,  and  Baton  of  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  Chicago,  John  A.  Cocker  ill,  managing 
editor  of  the  New  York  World,  Col.  R.  E.  J. 
Miles  of  the  Bijou  Opera  House,  New  York, 
Atkins  Lawrence,  James  H.  Meade,  John 
Lane,  George  Alfred  Townsend,  William 
Wheeler,  George  W.  Arundel,  Barton  Hill,  H. 
B.  Phillips,  John  P.  Smith,  Bartley  Campbell, 
Harold  Forsburg,  John  Burleigh,  W.  T. 
Campbell,  Lew  Simmons,  James  P.  Kingsley, 
John  Chamberlain,  J.  H.  Hague,  W.  W. 
Ripley,  Richard  Fitzgerald,  Murray  Woods, 
Col.  Horace  Fitz  of  San  Francisco,  Charles 
Fisher  of  the  Daly  Company,  Sam  Hemple, 
Charles  Southwell  of  McCaull's  Theatre,  Dlgby 
Bell,  Thomas  Donaldson,  Israel  Fleischman, 
Fred  Zimmerman,  Samuel  F.  Nixon,  John  J. 
Holmes,  Harry  McDonough,  Augustus  Pictou, 
Samuel  K.  Murdoch,  Morris  Simmonds,  Mme. 
Judic,  Miss  Jeannie  Winston,  Laura  Joyce 
Bell,  Mrs.  John  Drew,  Mrs.  Augusta  Foote, . 
Mrs.  Sedley  Smith,  Mrs.  W.  Rice  'and  Miss 
Carlotte  Evelyn. 

Mr.  Henry  F.  Gillig,  representing  the 
American  exchange  in  London,  who  happened 
to  be  in  this  country,  was  also  present. 

The  floral  offerings,  which  expressed  so 
potently  and  fragrantly  the  abiding  love  and 


224  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

memory  of  the  tragedian's  many  friends,  were 
numerous  and  notable  in  the  extreme.  Some 
of  these  deserve  mention.  There  was  the 
large  design  known  as  the  "Gates  Ajar," 
with  the  inscription  "At  Rest,"  from  Mary 
Anderson,  an  urn  of  chrysanthemums  and 
roses  from  John  T.  Raymond,  a  wreath  from 
Emma  Nevada,  a  harp  from  Mrs.  William  M. 
Conner,  another,  bearing  the  inscription  "Al 
compianto  Amico.  John  McCullough."  from 
Tommaso  Salvini,  a  crown  over  which  hovered 
a  white  dove  from  Lawrence  Barrett,  a 
Vienna  wreath  of  new  design  from  John  W. 
Mackay,  an  Elks'  collar  from  William  F. 
Johnson,  a  harp  of  white  roses  from  W.  J. 
Scanlan  and  Augustus  Pictou,  a  pillow  from 
Henry  E.  Dixie,  a  helmet  from  J.  W.  Collier, 
a  large  pillow  at  the  foot  of  the  casket  with 
the  words  "  He  was  good  to  me,  he  was"  from 
Edmund  Collier,  a  Roman  cinerary  urn,  copied 
after  one  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Candelabri  in 
the  Vatican  at  Rome,  four  feet  high,  a  garland 
of  ivy  running  in  festoons  about  the  bowl, 
imparting  a  most  striking  effect,  the  gift  of 
Thomas  W.  Keene,  a  large  bouquet  of  Jac- 
queminot roses  and  lilies  of  the  valley  from 
Mrs.  W.  Wright  Sanford,  a  cross  and  crown  of 
ivy  and  roses  from  Mrs.  John  W.  Forney,  a 
floral  vase  from  Miss  Willett,  a  pillow  and 


FURTHER    TRIBUTES  225 

wreath  from  the  St.  Louis  Lodge  of  Elks,  a 
broken  column  and  wreath  from  the  Philadel- 
phia Lodge,  a  scroll  from  the  New  York  Lodge, 
a  cushion  of  red,  white  and  yellow  roses  from 
the  Rochester  Lodge,  a  broken  pillar  from  the 
Brooklyn  Lodge,  a  harp  from  the  Pittsburg 
Lodge,  a  pillow  from  the  employees  of  the 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre  and  Opera  House,  a 
pillow  supported  upon  a  tripod  from  Messrs. 
Zimmerman  and  Nixon,  a  harp  from  Manager 
Fleischman  of  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  an 
urn  from  Manager  Holmes  of  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  and  from  the  Theatrical  Association 
of  Philadelphia  a  cushion  of  flowers  and  a 
"grip  "  in  the  centre. 

From  the  rear  of  the  hall,  the  rostrum  looked 
like  a  solid  bank  of  roses  and  flowering  plants 
-  a  wilderness  of  beauty. 

To  these  tributes  can  most  fittingly  be  added 
a  sonnet  and  a  poem,  which  appeared  in  the 
columns  of  the  Boston  Daily  Globe,  on  the 
morning  following  the  transition  (November 
9)  and  which  are  too  excellent  to  remain  in 
oblivion. 


226  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

JOHN  McCULLOUGH. 
By  Albert  E.  Hardy  of  Springfield,  Mass. 

The  Master  hath,  to  fill  his  wise  decree, 
Created  men  with  natures  sweet  and  rare 
As  flowers  that  bloom  upon  the  meadow  side, 
Men  who  designed  for  greatness,  walk  and  wear 
Their  robes  of  genius,  thinking  but  to  please 
The  people  of  the  world's  great  playhouse — Fame. 
For  such  as  these,  hath  raised  a  lofty  throne, 
And  now  upon  it  shines  another  name. 
He  stood  alone.     'Mong  all  his  compeers,  there 
Are  none  to  form  the  part,  to  fill  his  place 
Within  the  circle  where  he  lived  and  loved. 
So  soon  the  end.     Low  lies  the  tired  head, 
The  Master — tho'  his  name  shall  live — is  dead. 


FURTHER    TRIBUTES  227 

IN  MEMORIAM. 
By  W.  A.  Lewis. 

Trailing  to  earth  the  crimson  toga  falls, 
Before  a  tomb  hewn  from  the  massive  stone. 
Empty  the  sandals  lie  beside  the  grave 
Within  whose  portals  he  has  passed  alone. 
It  was  no  common  deed,  this  act  of  Time, 
No  common  stroke  of  Death's  remorseless  blow; 
A  nation's  grief  attests  the  full  accord 
Of  each  and  all  in  this  our  common  woe. 

He  was  a  simple  man;  yet  such  was  he 
That  every  heart  pulsates  in  honest  grief 
As  now  we  pause  beside  the  open  grave 
Of  him  who  was  our  tragic  hero,  chief. 
A  tiny  lad,  he  landed  on  our  shore, 
Of  Celtic  blood,  he  proudly  claimed  descent; 
To  honest  toil  his  manhood  ne'er  rebelled, 
He  struggled  on,  tho'  never  discontent. 

Faithful  was  he  in  humble  labor's  way, 
With  book  and  voice,  he  rilled  the  leisure  hour; 
Each  sturdy  limb  was  bred  in  toil  by  day, 
And  mighty  brain-work  paved  the  way  to  power. 
Called  from  the  craft  he  early  had  espoused, 
His  patron  saint*  installed  him  in  the  art 
Which  later,  found  an  artist  in  the  lad, 
Who,  in  his  time,  played  well  each  minor  part. 

A  score  of  years  his  name  has  been  a  spell, 
A  score  of  years  his  fame  has  widely  grown, 
A  score  of  years — the  veil  is  quickly  rent, 
And  all  of  man  and  art  in  him  has  flown. 
We',  as  a  people,  will  recall  with  pride, 

*  Forrest. 


228  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

All  that  he  did  to  benefit  his  art, 

He  was  a  man  with  all  that  manly  pride 

Which  makes  an  artist  great  in  any  part. 

Dread  be  the  fate  that  robs  the  gifted  mind 

Of  graces  fitted  unto  usefulness; 

Great  as  he  was,  he  might  have  greater  been 

Had  he  been  spared  the  latest  sad  distress. 

I  knew  him  in  the  private  walks  of  life, 

When  generous  impulses  prompted  noble  deeds. 

A  man  he  was  of  most  unselfish  heart, 

A  prompt  respondent  to  a  brother's  needs. 

He  posed  before  us  as  a  Roman  pfcre, 
Paternal  love  forever  filled  his  breast, 
With  shuddering  dread  he  took  Virginia's  life: 
He  acted  well,  altho'  most  sore  distressed. 
"  The  noblest  Roman  !"    Yes,  he  was  indeed, 
Born  to  be  draped  in  graceful  robes  of  state, 
While  armored  dress  became  his  person  well, 
And  as  the  warlike  Tuscan  he  was  truly  great. 

Calm  be  thy  rest,  Prince  of  the  Thespian  art, 
Hallowed  thy  tomb  and  precious  be  thy  fame  ! 
From  humblest  walks  thou  rose  to  high  estate, 
And  thousands  cheered  the  mention  of  thy  name. 
Loved  as  thou  wert  in  this  resolvent  sphere, 
Long  as  thy  mimicry  shall  awake  a  chord, 
Art  and  thy  majesty  go  hand  in  hand, 
And  fame  enduring  shall  bestow  reward. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FINAL  HONORS. 

"  Thou  wilt  see  him  again  in  the  happy  land  of  the 
spirits,  where  the  fair  hunting  grounds  never  know 
snows  or  storms,  and  where  the  immortal  brave  feast 
under  the  eyes  of  the  Giver  of  Good." 

— Metamora. 

Three  cities  contended  for  the  honor  of 
sepulture  of  the  remains  of  the  loved  trage- 
dian. The  New  York  friends  were  very 
desirous  that  they  should  rest  in  that  city,  the 
scene  of  so  many  of  his  triumphs.  The  St. 
Louis  Lodge  of  Elks,  of  which  McCullough  was 
an  honorary  member,  and'  in  which  organiza- 
tion he  had  always  taken  a  keen  interest, 
offered  a  burial  place  in  the  Bellefontaine 
Cemetery,  of  their  city. 

But  his  family  naturally  wished  them  to 
repose  nearer  his  old  home,  and  a  site  was 
finally  chosen  in  Mount  Moriah  Cemetery,  in 
the  immediate  suburbs  of  Philadelphia,  an 
enclosure  of  pleasing  undulating  features,  once 
the  property  of  Horatio  P.  Connell  and  his 
aunt,  Mrs.  Wallace,  who  presented  a  lot  for 
McCullough 's  burial  which  crowned  an  emi- 
nence of  considerable  elevation,  the  highest 


229 


230  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

in  the  grounds,  which  gift  was  gratefully 
accepted. 

This  city  of  the  dead,  of  240  acres,  is  now 
thickly  occupied,  the  remains  of  3000  soldiers, 
martyrs  of  the  civil  war,  rest  here,  as  does  also 
the  dust  of  Betsy  Ross,  whose  nimble  fingers, 
under  the  direction  of  Washington,  made  the 
first  American  flag,  a  flag-staff  still  serving  as 
her  sole  memorial. 

Very  soon  after  McCullough's  departure, 
his  friends  began  to  consider  the  erection  of  a 
suitable  monument  above  his  last  resting 
place.  His  devoted  friend  and  former  mana- 
ger, Capt.  Conner,  took  the  initiative  in  this 
observance,  making  no  appeal  to  the  public, 
which  would  have  been  so  generously  honored, 
but,  esteeming  it  a  privilege  too  dear  and  sacred 
to  be  promiscuously  shared,  he  conversed 
with  nearest  friends  regarding  such  project, 
all  of  whom  warmly  welcomed  this  oppor- 
tunity of  expressing  a  love  that  Time  could 
not  efface  or  dim,  and  their  ready  contribu- 
tions soon  ensured  its  speedy  fulfilment. 

Designs  for  the  monument  were  submitted 
by  Mr.  John  Lackme,  a  skilled  architect  of 
Philadelphia,  and  Mr.  William  Clark  Noble 
of  Newport,  R.  I.,  the  eminent  sculptor,  who 
felt  a  warm  enthusiasm  for  his  subject;  and 
these  drawings  were  heartily  approved.  It 


FINAL    HONORS  231 

was  decided  that  the  monument  should  be 
constructed  of  polished  Quincy  granite,  with 
a  bust  in  bronze,  of  the  great  tragedian,  in  his 
favorite  role  of  Virginius,  as  its  most  prom- 
inent feature  and  for  which  this  granite  temple 
should  serve  as  fitting  shrine. 

The  result  of  the  combined  efforts  of  artist, 
sculptor  and  designer  was  a  memorial  of  the 
most  imposing  beauty  and  grandeur.  It  was 
the  first  monument  ever  raised  to  the  memory 
of  an  actor  in  this  country  if  not  in  the  world, 
and  few  citizens  in  any  walk  of  life  have  ever 
been  honored  by  so  grand  a  one."  The 
sculptured  urn  of  the  apex  stands  thirty-six 
feet  from  the  ground,  and  from  it  rises  an 
ascending  flame,  typical  of  the  aspiring  soul 
in  its  escape  from  mortal  encasement.  The 
entire  proportions  of  the  structure  are  both 
graceful  and  grand.  The  massive  base  from 
which  it  springs,  is  adorned  on  its  front  face 
with  a  design  of  crossed  foils,  and  the  fasces 
of  the  Roman  lictors,  flanked  on  either  side 
by  the  masks  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  and 
crowned  by  the  Scotch  thistle.  On  the  north 
side  of  the  base  are  inscribed  the  lines  from 
"Julius  Caesar,"  which  McCullough  himself 
selected,  as  elsewhere  stated,  for  the  grave- 
stone of  his  friend,  Edwin  Adams,  equally 
appropriate  here. 


232  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

"  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world.  '  This  was  a  man.' ' 

On  the  reverse  side  are  the  equally  fitting 
lines  from  Whittier: 

"  Tender  as.woman,  manliness  and  meekness 

In  him  were  so  allied, 

That  they  who  judged  him  by  his  strength  or  meek- 
ness, 

Saw  but  a  single  side." 

On  the  rear  is  the  inscription: 

ERECTED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THE 
EMINENT  TRAGEDIAN,  JOHN  McCULLOUGH, 

BY  HIS  FRIENDS: 
JOHN  W.  MACKAY,       WILLIAM  J.  FLORENCE, 

MARY  ANDERSON, 

WILLIAM  M.  CONNER,  W.  H.  THOMPSON, 

JOHN  B.  CARSON,  W.  F.  JOHNSON, 

AND  OTHERS. 

The  names  of  all  the  contributors  to  this 
memorial  are  not  known,  but  among  those 
who  craved  the  opportunity  of  expressing 
their  undying  affection  for  the  great  artist, 
it  is  safe  to  affirm  (now  that  there  is  no  longer 
need  for  the  seal  of  secrecy,  which  embargo 
his  modesty  imposed)  that  the  largest  donor 
was  the  tragedian's  stanch,  abiding  friend, 
that  kind-hearted,  intelligent,  modest  million- 
aire -  -  John  W.  Mackay. 


FINAL     HONORS  233 

From  this  massive  base  arise  four  beautiful 
pillars,  entwined  by  sculptured  ivy,  which, 
with  the  domed  roof  which  they  support, 
enclose  a  chapel-shrine  for  the  noble  bust,  of 
colossal  size,  which,  with  a  most  life-like 
expression  of  repose  and  serenity,  looks  ever 
toward  the  sunrise.  The  -standard  of  the 
bust  bears  as  inscription  that  well-known  line 
from  "  Virginius" 

"  Does  no  one  speak  ? 
I  am  defendant  here." 

This  majestic  work  was  modelled  by  Mr. 
Noble,  and  cast  by  the  Henry  Bannard 
Bronze  Company  of  New  York.  The  granite 
was  sculptured  by  John  Ferguson  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  the  entire  monument  cost  nine 
thousand  three  hundred  dollars. 

Very  notable  services  marked  the  dedica- 
tion of  this  artistic  memorial  on  November 
27,  1888.  It  was  a  cold,  gray  day  of  late 
autumn,  cloudy  and  clear  by  turns,  thus 
typical  of  human  experience.  But  nothing 
could  deter  the  attendance  of  the  host  of 
friends  who  "held  his  memory  green, "  and  who, 
three  years  after  his  departure,  showed  by 
their  love  and  their  tears  how  indelible  was 
the  impress  that  the  sweet-souled  McCullough 
had  made  on  every  heart  that  knew  him. 


234  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

The  audience  was  large  and  representative  of 
almost  every  phase  of  professional  life,  most 
of  those  present  being  personal  friends  of  him 
whom  they  met  to  honor,'  and  they  had 
gathered  not  from  Philadelphia  alone,  but 
from  widely  remote  localities,  from  Chicago 
and  Boston,  while  again  a  special  train  brought 
many  friends  from  New  York  to  honor  this 
tribute  of  sincere  friendship. 

Among  these  were  Rodolph  Aronson,  J.  H. 
Barnes,  C.  W.  Brooke,  Col.  T.  A.  Brown, 
Judge  Bregy,  A.  J.  Bates,  J.  W.  Collier,  W.  M. 
Conner,  Mrs.  Conner,  Miss  Mignon  Conner, 
William  Winter,  G.  F.  Goes,'  Luke  Schoolcraft, 
J.  Cunningham,  John  Courtney,  George  Davis, 
J.  J.  Dougherty,  Henry  Enoch,  F.  H.  Gould, 
E.  C.  Gilmore,  Laurence  Hutton,  Rev.  Robert 
Hunter,  Dr.  W.  F.  Hartley,  David  Hayman, 
Frederick  Helm,  Matthew  Jackson,  W.  F. 
Johnson,  J.  F.  Kelly,  John  A.  Lane,  Frank 
H.  Lane,  E.  A.  McFarland,  James  H.  Meade, 
Frank  Moran,  Steele  Mackaye,  W.  H.  Max- 
well, M.  J.  O'Brien,  William  Ottman,  J.  B. 
Roberts,  W.  S.  Rising,  Locke  Richardson, 
Henry  Scheetz,  Richard  Stockton,  S.  S.  Sand- 
ford,  Eugene  Tompkins,  Alexander  Taylor, 
Jr.,  S.  J.  Todd,  Berry  Hall,  B.  Warburton 
and  Joseph  Wood. 

Of  the  tragedian's  family,  there  were  his 


FINAL     HONORS  235 

-. 

son  James  and  wife,  with  their  daughter,  Miss 
Letitia,  his  sister,  Mrs.  Wert,  who,  with  Mrs. 
Conner  and  daughter,  Mrs.  Rees  Haskett,  Miss 
Clara  Poole,  Miss  Jenny  Saunderson  and 
other  ladies,  occupied  chairs  near  the  monu- 
ment; his  wife  and  youngest  son  having 
joined  him  since  his  own  decease,  three  years 
before,  and  their  dust  now  rests  with  his 
remains  in  the  tomb  below. 

A  platform  was  erected  for  the  orator, 
poet,  and  others  who  officiated  in  the  exer- 
cises, which  were  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Actors'  Order  of  Friendship  and  the  Phila- 
delphia Lodge  of  Elks.  A  large  floral  chair 
was  -placed  at  the  base  of  the  monument, 
bearing  the  inscription  "  Sleep  well,  brother, 
sleep  well." 

There  was  first  a  solemn  musical  prelude 
by  Bach,  rendered  by  Simon  Hassler's  band, 
who  contributed  also  other  selections,  and  a 
chorus  sang  the  "  Prayer  of  the  Actor's  Child." 
At  two  p.  m.,  Mr.  W.  F.  Johnson,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  unveil  the  bust  which  revealed  the 
familiar  classic  features  of  the  beloved  trage- 
dian, addressed  the  assembled  company  as 
follows: 

"My  Friends:  There  is  an  hour  when  we 
are  called  upon  to  mourn  the  loss  of  one  dear 
to  us;  there  is  an  hour  when  grief  is  soothed 


236  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

and  we  feel  that  our  tears  were  not  in  vain. 
The  consolation  that  Nature  brings  is  the 
compensation  for  our  sorrow.  We  are  not 
here  to-day  to  mourn, — for  mourning  cannot 
give  us  back  our  friend, — but  rather  for  exul- 
tation that  his  memory  lives  with  us,  green 
with  the  remembrance  of  his  great  charity, 
his  sweetness  of  temperament,  and  his  glorious 
geniality.  Heroes  have  had  their  last  resting- 
places  marked  with  imperishable  marble,  in 
admiration  of  their  power  to  slaughter  men 
and  wreak  misery  upon  their  fellow-creatures; 
poets  for  the  sweetness  of  their  songs;  rulers 
for  their  excellence  in  statecraft;  but  few  are 
honored,  as  our  dear  friend  is  to-day,  for  per- 
sonal worth,  unostentatious  charities,  and  a 
beneficent  life. 

"Every  American  citizen  can  unite  in  this 
loving  remembrance.  The  life  of  our  friend 
was  the  embodiment  of  the  possibilities  of  our 
civilization.  A  poor,  lone,  penniless  and 
uneducated  emigrant,  from  the  Green  Isle 
that  has  given  so  much  to  the  world,  he  arose, 
by  his  genius  and  the  capabilities  of  our  insti- 
tutions, to  be  a  man  of  culture  and  intellectual 
force,  the  associate  of  judges  and  senators, 
and  the  advanced  in  culture  of  our  land;  and 
when  he  passed  away  he  left  a  void,  as  the 
last  and  not  the  least  of  a  long  line  of  delinea- 
tors of  the  romantic  and  heroic  characters  of 
poetry. 

"  The  story  of  his  life  has  been  told,  but  the 
loving  devotion  of  his  friends  can  never  be 
written. 


FINAL     HONORS  237 

'  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  "  This  was  a  man." 

"  So  has  it  been  carved  on  this  structure, 
that  those  who  are  to  come  may  know  the 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held  in  life.  He  had 
his  superficial  faults.  To  be  more  than  human 
is  not  to  be  of  humanity.  But  in  gentleness, 
sweetness  of  temper,  self-abnegation,  and 
broad  and  open-hearted  charity  we  may  never 
know  his  equal. 

"As  a  friend  of  his  early  life  and  of  his^ 
mature  years — a  friendship  that  was  never 
broken  by  time  nor  dimmed  by  absence — I 
have  been  asked  to  withdraw  the  curtain 
that  will  reveal  his  effigy,  placed  here  in 
enduring  bronze. 

"  It  is  with  affectionate  remembrance  of 
my  friend  that  I  do  this,  and  a  trust  that  it 
will  in  future  years  be  considered  not  only 
the  memorial  of  a  great  man,  but  a  lesson 
that  the  remembrance  of  good-  deeds,  charity 
and  affection  endures  forever." 

It  had  been  hoped  that  an  address  might 
be  furnished  by  Mr.  Conner,  the  originator 
of  this  beautiful  memorial,  but  a  recent  illness 
and  hoarseness  made  public  speaking  impos- 
sible, still  his  generous  office  was  recognized 
by  warmest  applause,  as  he  arose  to  intro- 
duce the  orator  of  the  occasion,  Mr.  Steele 
Mackaye. 


238  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

THE  ORATION. 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  I  regard  this  as 
a  moment  to  be  greeted  by  us  without  other 
tears  than  those  born  of  the  deep  content  of 
gratified  love.  While  there  is  a  profound 
solemnity  about  this  occasion,  it  nevertheless 
should  have,  for  those  here  present,  no  savor 
of  sorrow  or  pain.  On  the  contrary,  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  profession  which  this 
noble  sleeper  served,  there  has  never  occurred 
an  episode  freighted  with  greater  encourage- 
ment to  his  co-workers  than  this  which  we 
enjoy  here  to-day,  for  it  demonstrates  the 
lasting  hold  that  true  manhood  can  obtain, 
through  loyal  service  on  the  stage,  upon  the 
affectionate  remembrance  of  our  race. 

"  For  the  first  time  a  monument  has  been 
raised,  not  as  a  private  ceremonial,  but  as  a 
public  commemoration,  over  the  grave  of  an 
American  actor.  This  monument,  apart  from 
the  charm  diffused  by  its  intrinsic  beauty, 
performs  three  functions,  invaluable  to  those 
interested  in  honest  art  and  right  living: 
Firstly,  as  a  tribute  to  an  actor  it  asserts  the 
worth  and  dignity  of  histrionic  endeavor. 
Secondly,  it  emphasizes  the  sterling  quality 
of  the  man  who  rests  beneath  it.  Thirdly, 
it  celebrates  the  -glorious  and  permanent  force 
of  human  friendship.  Never  before  in  this 
country  has  a  votary  of  the  theatre  received 
such  a  testimonial — declaring  the  love  that 
outlives  death — as  this  statue  just  unveiled 
and  this  assemblage  from  widely  separated 


FINAL     HONORS  239 

cities,  of  hearts  that  are  strong  in  memory 
because  they  were  always  firm  in  affection. 

"  If  we  inquire  into  the  causes  of  this 
unique  occasion,  we  shall  discern  much  to 
encourage  our  faith  in  that  human  nature 
which  cynics  are  so  prone  to  despise.  When 
the  band  of  faithful  souls  assembled  here  have 
'passed  through  Nature  to  eternity,' — into 
that  freer  and  deeper  communion  of  spirit 
which  awaits  us  beyond  the  silence  of  the 
grave — our  children  and  children's  children 
will  pause  to  gaze  upon  the  massive  manliness 
of  this  heroic  head,  and  to  ask  why  he  only,  of 
the  illustrious  dead  of  his  great  art,  was  selec- 
ted to  survive,  in  bronze,  the  crumbling  mem- 
ories of  the  fellows  of  his  craft.  Was  it  be- 
cause he  was  greater  or  more  skillful  in  his 
art  than  those  who  passed  before  him  to  the 
tomb?  No  !  Few  would  care  to  press  such 
a  claim  for  the  man  whose  spirit  gave  life  to 
the  ashes  in  this  grave.  Why,  then,  has  he 
been  singled  out  for  this  distinction? 

"  Because  he  played  his  part  with  such 
simplicity  in  life,  and  such  unpretentious 
patience  in  art,  that  death,  with  all  its  dread 
omnipotence,  could  not  destroy  the  remem- 
brance of  his  winsome  and  achieving  will. 
His  story  accentuates  the  beneficent  possi- 
bilities of  the  land  of  freedom,  in  which  he 
proved  that  his  rank  was  due  to  naught  but 
nature,  endeavor  and  personal  achievement. 
His  origin  was  as  lowly  as  the  effort  of  his 
life  was  lofty.  Without  the  advantages  of 
education,  wealth  and  social  position,  he  won 


240  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

them  all  through  countless  and  trying  vicissi- 
tudes; won  them  simply  by  the  iron  force  of 
dauntless  determination  and  the  unflagging 
energy  of  an  aspiring  mind.  Through  his 
unflinching  firmness  in  the  fight  of  life,  how- 
ever, he  bore  within  his  breast  an  inexhaust- 
ible spring  of  '  the  milk  of  human  kindness. ' 
He  possessed  that  dignity  and  graciousness 
of  manner  which  denote  a  nature  of  the 
noblest  rank.  He  won  all  hearts,  and  the 
secret  of  his  sway  among  all  classes,  was  his 
unchanging  truth  and  incorruptible  integ- 
rity. He  was  unfalteringly  true — true  to  his 
friend,  fair  to  his  foe,  and  faithful  to  the 
highest  aims  of  his  art.  From  such  a  record 
no  wonder  such  an  expression  of  respect  as 
this  should  spring  ! 

"And  yet  I  have  seen  the  oblique  eye  of  envy 
cast  upon  this  grave;  have  heard  McCullough's 
title  to  this  triumph  questioned  in  the  con- 
temning tone  that  tells  the  jealous  heart.  If 
any  in  the  future  should  echo  the  cavil  of 
these  petty  minds,  let  them  be  reminded  how 
single  and  distinct  John  McCullough's  stand 
was  toward  his  associates  of  the  stage.  While 
most  of  those  his  day  saw  crowned  with 
laurel  —  actors  who,  without  the  glorifying 
glamor  of  the  -stage,  would  have  lived  unno- 
ticed and  been  buried  in  forgotten  graves  - 
while,  I  say,  the  favored  few  of  his  profession 
held  themselves  haughtily  aloof  from  social 
contact  with  the  comrades  whose  co-operation 
enabled  them  to  win  their  way,  the  unsullied 
manliness  of  this  true  gentleman  moved 


FINAL    HONORS  241 

through  the  world  untainted  by  envy,  hauteur, 
or  self-conceit.  He  bore  himself  equally  with 
deference  and  courtesy  toward  the  poor  and 
unrecognized  and  with  simple  dignity  toward 
the  high-placed  and  mighty  of.  the  world. 
He  met  all  the  brothers  of  his  guild,  however 
humble  the  role  that  fate  assigned,  with  a 
heart  sincere  in  sympathy,  a  head  quick  and 
willing  to  advise,  a  hand  strong  and  ready  to 
assist.  This  is  the  final  reason  for  the  erection 
of  this  monument;  because-  the  stainless 
integrity  and  sensitive  tenderness  of  an  unaf- 
fected man  were  blended  with  the  undying 
devotion  of  an  unpretentious  artist  in  the 
noble  personality  of  John  McCullough. 

"  Friends,  this  monument  is  as  weighty  with 
worth  as  it  is  rare  in  occurrence.  We  are  not 
likely  to  know  another  such  as  this  in  our 
generation.  It  becomes  us,  therefore,  to 
consider  to  whom  our  profession  is  most 
indebted  for  this  precious  experience.  The 
man  who  in  life  was  the  guide,  the  trusted 
confidant,  the  steadfast  friend  of  John  Mc- 
Cullough —  the  friend  who  did  most  of  the 
practical  work  in  assisting  him  to  attain 
success  —  was  equally  energetic,  faithful,  and 
efficient  in  service  to  this  artist  after  he  was 
dead.  Though  the  grave  had  hidden  his  hero 
from  sight  he  still  bore  him  in  mind.  Friend- 
ship did  not  falter,  devotion  did  not  relax; 
but  with  patient  and  tireless  toil  this  loving 
comrade  refused  to  rest  until  the  great  actor 
whom  he  had  served  when  living  had  attained 
to  even  greater  singleness  of  honor  in  death 


242  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

than  he  had  ever  enjoyed  in  life.  That  man 
to  whom  the  Dramatic  Profession  is  in  ever- 
lasting debt  for  the  work  completed  here 
to-day,  is  the  twin  in  sterling  manliness,  of 
the  beloved  spirit  that  once  animated  the  dust 
beneath  this  bronze.  All  honor  then  to  him. 
If  dear  John  McCullough  is  looking  on  and 
listening  to  the  words  I  speak,  his  soul  echoes 
mine  when  I  say  that  intertwined  with  the 
immortality  of  his  own  name  is  that  of  his 
loyal  friend  William  M.  Conner. 

"  On  April  4,  1881,  at  a  feast  given  in  honor 
of  McCullough,  a  poet  (William  Winter), 
whose  friendship  he  prized  beyond  expression, 
paid  him  the  tribute  of  a  poem.  The  opening 
verse  voices  with  strange  truth  the  sentiment 
of  this  hour  here;  and  therefore  I  close  by 
taking  this  flower  from  that  gay  garland  to 
lay  now  upon  this  bier: 

'  Long  hushed  is  the  harp  that  his  glory  had  spoken, 
Long  stilled  is  the  heart  that  could  summon  its 

strain; 

Now  its  cords  are  all  silent,  or  tuneless,  or  broken, 
What  touch  can  awaken  its  music  again?'  " 

» 

Following  the  oration  and  a  plaintive  dirge 
by  the  band,  Mr.  William  Winter,  with  whom 
McCullough  had  been  associated  for  years  by 
ties  of  closest  friendship  and  profound  esteem, 
delivered  the  following  exquisite  apostrophe 
to  his  departed  friend,  while  every  eye  sought 
the  face  in  bronze  which  he  addressed,  as  if 


FINAL    HONORS  243 

• 

expecting  to  see  upon  it  the  old-time  genial 
response. 

THE  ELEGY. 

How  different  now,  old  friend,  the  meeting  ! 

Thy  form,  thy  face,  thy  look  the  same — 
But  where  is  now  the  kindly  greeting, 

The  voice  of  cheer,  the  heart  of  flame? 
There  in  thy  gYandeur,  calm  and  splendid, — 

God's  peace  on  that  imperial  brow, — 
Thou  standest,  grief  and  trouble  ended, 

And  we  are  nothing  to  'thee  now. 

Yet  once  again  the  air  is  cloven 

With  joyous  tumult  of  acclaim; 
Once  more  the  golden  wreaths  are  woven, 

Of  love  and  honor,  for  thy  name; 
And  round  thee  here,  with  tender  longing, 

As  oft  they  did  in  days  of  old, 
The  comrades  of  thy  soul  come  thronging, 

Who  never  knew  thee  stern  or  cold. 

Why  waits,  in  frozen  silence  sleeping, 

The  smile  that  made  our  hearts  rejoice? 
Why,  dead  to  laughing  and  to  weeping, 

Is  hushed  the  music  of  thy  voice? 
By  what  strange  mood  of  reverie  haunted, 

Art  thou,  the  gentle,  grown  austere? 
And  do  we  live  in  dreams  enchanted, 

To  know  thee  gone,  yet  think  thee  here? 

Ah,  fond  presence  !    ah,  sweet  beguiling  ! 

Too  well  I  know  thy  course  is  run. 
There's  no  more  grief  and  no  more  smiling 

For  thee  henceforth  beneath  the  sun. 


244  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

« 

In  manhood's  noon  thy  summons  found  thee, 
In  glory's  blaze,  on  fortune's  height, 

Trailed  the  black  robe  of  doom  around  thee 
And  veiled  thy  radiant  face  in  night. 

This  but  the  shadow  of  a  vision 

Our  mourning  souls  alone  can  see, 
That  pierce  through  death  to  realms  elysian, 

More  hallowed  now  because  of  thee. 
Yet,  oh,  what  heart,  with  recollection 

Of  thy  colossal  trance  of  pain, 
Were  now  so  selfish  in  affection 

To  wish  thee  back  from  heaven  again? 

There  must  be  in  those  boundless  spaces 

Where  thy  great  spirit  wanders  free, 
Abodes  of  bliss,  enchanted  places, 

That  only  Love's  white  angels  see  ! 
And  sure,  if  heavenly  kindness  showered 

On  every  sufferer  'neath  the  sun 
Shows  any  human  spirit  dowered 

With  love  angelic,  thou  wert  one  ! 

There's  no  grand  impulse,  no  revealing 

In  all  the  glorious  world  of  art, 
There's  no  sweet  thought  or  noble  feeling 

That  throbbed  not  in  thy  manly  heart  ! 
There's  no  strong  flight  of  aspiration, 

No  reverent  dream  of  realms  divine, 
No  pulse,  no  thrill,  no  proud  elation 

Of  god-like  power  that  was  not  thine  ! 

So  stand  forever,  joyless,  painless, 
Supreme  alike  o'er  smiles  and  tears, 

Thou  true  man's  image,  strong  and  stainless, 
Unchanged  through  all  the  changing  years — 


FINAL    HONORS  245 

While  Fame's  blue  crystal  o'er  thee  bending, 
With  honor's  gems  shall  blaze  and  burn, 

And  rose  and  lily,  round  thee  blending, 
Adorn  and  bless  thy  hallowed  urn. 

While  summer  days  are  long  and  lonely, 

While  autumn  sunshine  seems  to  weep, 
While  midnight  hours  are  bleak,  and  only 

The  clouds  and  stars  their  vigils  keep, 
All  gentle  things  that  live  shall  moan  thee, 

All  fond  regrets  forever  wake; 
For  earth  is  happier  having  known  thee, 

And  heaven  is  sweeter  for  thy  sake. 

As  if  echoing  the  music  of  this  verse,  the 
Quartette  of  the  Actors'  Order  of  Friendship, 
consisting  of  Mr.  J.  F.  Davis,  Mr.  Joseph 
Wood,  Mr.  W.  H.,  Maxwell,  and  Mr.  J.  J. 
Dougherty  sang  sweet  requiems  for  their  lost 
comrade,  the  Warrior's  chorus  from  Lombardi, 
and  Mozart's  Triumphal  March  serving  as 
fitting  finale  to  these  touching  services. 

Again  the  press  of  the  day  rang  the  praises 
of  McCullough's  fame,  and  in  the  New  York 
World  of  that  date,  we  note  this  paragraph: 
"To-day  in  a  cemetery  near  Philadelphia,  a 
monument  will  be  formally  dedicated  to  the 
memory  of  John  McCullough,  the  actor.  The 
event  recalls  the  pathetic  story  of  the  poor 
boy  who  landed  upon  these  shores  a  stranger; 
who  lifted  himself  by  earnest  application, 
sacrifice  and  study  to  the  very  head  of  the 


246  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

dramatic  profession,  and  who  'cheated  by 
fortune  of  fair  hours '  fell  in  the  very  prime 
of  his  manhood  and  the  fruition  of  his  life 
work.  Honors  such  as  came  to  few  men  were 
his.  He  was  of  gentle  spirit,  his  ambitions 
were  lofty,  his  heart  was  ever  rilled  with  high 
resolves,  and  he  loved  humanity.  There 
was  no  envy  in  his  soul.  He  loved  his  friends, 
and  no  man  ever  lived  who  attached  "people 
to  him  as  did  John  McCullough.  Three  years 
have  passed  since  he  was  blotted  from  exist- 
ence, —  a  long  time  in  this  harsh  world  to 
cherish  a  good  man's  memory,  —  and  yet  the 
tears  which  will  bedew  the  eyes  of  those  who 
meet  to-day  to  pay  him  tribute,  will  be  as 
fresh  as  those  which  were  shed  beside  his  bier. 
To  have  lived  to  write  such  tender  tracings 
upon  the  hearts  of  men  was  to  have  lived 
well." 

The  writer  recently  revisited  the  hallowed 
spot  where  this  monument  stands,  in  the 
golden  glow  of  a  warm  Indian  summer's 
afternoon,  and  just  before  the  declining  sun 
sought  the  horizon.  The  atmosphere  was 
ideal;  a  glory  and  a  peace  that  seemed  not  of 
earth,  rested  everywhere. 

From  the  eminence,  one  could  look  down 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  tree-tops  in  the 


FINAL     HONORS  247 

valley  below,  now  clothing  themselves  with 
beautiful  russet  tints.  At  their  feet,  a  quiet 
little  streamlet  rippled  along  its  course,  and 
across  this  valley,  on  the  opposite  slope,  a 
soldier's  burial  was  in  progress.  The  com- 
rades of  the  G.  A.  R.  had  followed  the  car- 
riages to  the  spot,  with  the  accompaniment 
of  drum  and  fife,  playing  the  familiar  Pleyel 
and  Portuguese  hymns,  the  sibilant  strains 
of  the  fife  sounding  in  the  distance  like  the 
soft  sighing  of  a  human  voice. 

After  the  simple  service,  came  the  three 
slow  salutes  which  sounded  the  impressive 
"taps"  for  the  dead,  and  over  all  this  scene, 
McCullough's  silent  face  and  serene  eyes 
seemed  to  hold  watchful,  sympathetic  observ- 
ance; and  yet  his  gaze  seemed  lifted  above 
the  ceremonial  of  this  plane,  as  if  scanning 
a  realm  we  cannot  yet  behold,  save  in  day- 
dreams and  visions  of  anticipation,  as  if 
witnessing  the  welcome  accorded  to  the 
newly-arrived  soldier.  One  could  not  help 
but  talk  aloud  to  this  noble  companion, 
whose  response  was  not  unfelt,  nor  resist  the* 
impulse  to  rest  the  hand  upon  the  ornate 
granite,  with  caressing  touch. 

The  experience  brought  a  blessed  baptism 
and  upliftment,  from  which  it  was  hard  to 
turn  away,  as  twilight  approached  (though 


248  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

with  many  a  backward  look  of  greeting  and 
farewell),  and  enter  again  the  valleys  of  earth. 
Ah,  but  the  sun  of  mortal  life  will  some  glad 
day  find  its  horizon,  and  the  echo  of  the 
solemn  "taps"  be  then  resolved  into  the 
reveille  of  an  eternal  morning  —  a  Day  which 
knows  no  night. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BEYOND  THE  BAR. 

"  Truth  subsists  eternally,  and  finally  triumphs 
because  it  is  eternal  and  strong  even  as  God  himself." 

— Pascal. 

But  is  it  true  that  "we  are  nothing  to  him 
now?"  Is  there  for  this  genial,  humorous 
nature  "  no  more  smiling  'neath  the  sun? "  Is 
heaven  some  distant,  walled-up  locality  where 
the  dear  departed  are  held  imprisoned  and 
cannot  "come  back  from  thence  again?" 
Ah,  they  do  not  "come  back,"  because  they 
go  not  away.  Heaven  is  not  a  place,  but  a 
condition,  which  all  can  attain,  while  enmeshed 
with  clay.  There  is  only  one  world  —  the 
world  of  spirit  —  and  we  are  its  denizens, 
here  and  now. 

Is  love  an  impulse  of  the  clay  alone  ?  Does 
it  die  when  the  material  form  of  the  lover 
crumbles  to  dust?  Love  is  as  eternal  as  its 
source,  and  the  true  lover  is  per  force  immortal. 
Are  fidelity  and  friendship's  loyalty  features 
of  the  flesh?  If  not,  then  these  must  survive 
its  loss.  The  same  necessity  for  expression 
of  Love's  sweet  offices  must  be  keenly  felt,  as 
it  would  be  if  the  separation  were  measured  by 

249 


250  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

earthly  miles.  The  body  is  not  the  man. 
It  is  only  a  sheath,  which  even  on  this  plane 
often  proves  a  fetter  to  the  soul's  complete 
expression. 

One  feels  the  keenest  pity  for  the  soul  that 
is  not  conscious  of  its  own  innate  immortality, 
with  the  same  surety  which  it  holds  of  its 
present  existence,  when  such  widespread  hun- 
ger everywhere  exists  for  some  tangible  proof 
of  the  intelligent  continuity  of  life  after  tran- 
sition. When  our  academic  fountains  of 
learning  assay  a  treatment  of  this  theme, 
their  lecture  halls  are  crowded  to  the  doors  by 
an  eager,  yearning  audience,  keenly  desirous 
of  gaining  light  on  the  subject  of  immortal 
life.  Do  they  receive  it?  Alas  !  no.  The 
lecturer  knows  no  more  about  it  than  they  do, 
is  painfully  conscious  that  he  does  not.  These 
public  teachers  are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind. 
They  are  always  grand,  noble  men,  accom- 
plished, gifted,  erudite;  they  would  almost 
give  their  lives  to  feed  these  waiting  mortals 
with  living  bread,  rather  than  offer  them  a 
rhetorical  stone;  they  even  deprecate  in  a 
frank,  manly  way  their  inefficiency  for  the 
task,  the  unfitness  of  their  selection  for  this 
office,  and  their  lectures  are  models  of  ex- 
cellent thought,  most  beautifully  expressed, 
but  they  leave  this  important  subject  exactly 


BEYOND    THE   BAR  251 

where  they  found  it.  The  universal  lack  of 
open  conviction  of  this  truth  is  both  pitiable 
and  amazing.  A  cultured  intellect  is  so  often 
exclusive,  narrowed  to  its  own  especial  in- 
terests, and  color  blind  to  the  truths  of  the 
spirit. 

If  this  same  College  was.  to  furnish  lectures 
on  geology  or  bacteriology,  it  would  not  be 
guilty  of  the  travesty  of  selecting  a  lecturer 
who  knew  nothing  whatsoever  of  his  theme. 
One  would  be  chosen  who,  like  Agassiz  in 
his  field,  could  construct  an  entire  fish  from  a 
single  bone.  Then  why  not  a  specialist  in 
spiritual  consciousness  to  reveal  spiritual 
truth? 

There  is  nothing  in  human  life  more  pitiful, 
more  incredible  than  the  stolid  acceptance  by 
intelligent  mortals  of  complete  separation 
from  their  friends  who  pass  through  the 
blessed  gateway  of  death,  thus  to  calmly 
allow  a  voiceless  silence  to  fall  between  them, 
henceforth.  If  the  friend  had  journeyed  to 
Asia  or  Africa,  it  would  be  considered  rank 
disloyalty  to  turn  away  from  all  possible 
communication  with  the  absent  loved  one. 

In  fact,  the  most  important  inventions  of 
modern  times  hinge  upon  the  innate  human 
instinct  to  communicate  with  one's  fellows 
more  perfectly,  at  any  distance.  The  tele- 


252 

graph,  ocean  cable,  telephone,  phonograph 
and  wireless  telegraphy,  all  owe  their  inception 
and  birth  to  this  potent,  yearning  demand. 
It  is  even  a  feature  of  human  aspiration  at  the 
present  day,  to  open  communication  with  our 
neighboring  planet  —  Mars.  Only  at  one  por- 
tal does  a  materialistic  world  draw  back  from 
this  sovereign  privilege  of  intelligent  com- 
munion. Though  hearts  break  with  the 
agony  of  loss,  though  the  loneliness  of  bereave- 
ment, the  missing  of  the  loved  companionship 
yearns  unendurably  for  one  word  or  sign  of  the 
old  affection,  without  which  life  is  a  dreary 
blank,  although  it  would  seem  that  the  hunger 
and  thirst  for  some  proof  that  the  dead  are  not 
dead,  would  almost  induce  the  yearning 
spirit  to  long  that  it  might  tear  the  heavens 
down,  in  its  effort  for  intelligent  reunion  with 
its  own;  and  again,  although  the  Judean 
Master  lent  the  sanction  of  his  example-  to 
such  interchange  between  the  two  spheres  of 
conscious  life,  both  before  and  after  his 
crucifixion,  and  although  •  history  abounds 
with  such  instances  all  down  the  ages,  yet  we 
behold  the  amazing  spectacle  of  a  world  which 
refuses  to  enter  upon  its  divine  privilege.  If 
a  friend  travels  to  a  distant  State,  we  would 
walk  miles  to  reach  one  of  the  post  offices 
which  Uncle  Sam  provides  for  such  emer- 


BEYOND    THE    BAR  253 

gencies,  on  this  plane,  but  scorn  to  seek  a 
spiritual  post  office  for  similar  interchange  of 
thought  with  an  arisen  friend. 

How  often  is  the  remark  heard,  "  If  my  dear 
one  can  return  to  commune  with  me,  why  can 
he  not  come  directly  to  me,  instead  of  to  an 
uncongenial  stranger,  of  whom  he  never 
heard?  I  am  ready  to  receive  him." 

Why,  indeed,  if  your  friend  wishes  to  send  a 
telegram  from  New  York,  does  he  not  use  the 
clothes  line  hung  in  your  back  yard,  instead  of 
coming  to  a  strange  telegraph  operator,  in  a 
down- town  office,  whom  he  never  saw?  Law 
still  abides,  and  is  immutable  on  both  the  spirit- 
ual and  material  planes.  As  a  battery  is  neces- 
sary to  transmit  and  receive  messages  over 
material  wires,  a  human  battery  is  likewise 
essential  for  the  transmission  of  messages 
from  the  spirit  world. 

Praise  be  to  the  Giver  of  Good  that  there 
are  such  gifted  beings,  and  if  there  are  pre- 
tenders in  this  field  (of  whom  we  hear  much 
and  see  little)  a  counterfeit  always  presup- 
poses a  genuine,  or  there  could  be  nothing  to 
imitate,  and  there  are  few  people  who  scorn 
to  seek  genuine  dollars  because  there  have 
been  counterfeit  coins  made  of  baser  metal. 

The  Society  for  Psychical  Research  (an 
organization  forced  into  existence  by  the  vast 


254  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

phenomena  in  myriad  form,  which  had  accum- 
ulated since  the  "  dawning  light ' '  of  1848,  and 
which  is  doubtless  a  part  of  the  divine  plan  - 
we  bid  it  a  strong  God  speed  !)  undertook  in 
1882,  or  so  it  seemed  to  many  observers,  to 
prove  that  all  claims  to  spirit  communion 
were  false,  or  if,  per  ad  venture,  obliged  to 
admit  their  genuineness,  to  make  this  fact 
respectable  by  their  scientific  patronage.  But 
now  after  most  laborious  and  painstaking 
effort,  with  praiseworthy  patience,  for  many 
years,  they  have  falteringly  re-discovered 
some  old  truths,  already  abundantly  proven 
and  enjoyed  for  years,  and  which  can  never 
become  truer  by  any  mortal  sanction,  however 
scholarly. 

These  worthy  gentlemen  (and  no  truer, 
nobler  souls  exist  than  some  who  have  com- 
posed the  Society's  membership)  advanced 
"Scientists,  supreme  in  erudition  in  their  own 
field,  have  been  sadly  handicapped  by  lack 
(in  themselves)  of  psychic  tools  for  their 
investigations,  their  spiritual  eyes  and  ears 
being  as  yet  unborn,  their  intuitive  receptivity 
of  spiritual  truth,  unfolded.  They  would  be 
similarly  disqualified  for  the  exploration  of  a 
strange  country,  of  whose  language  they  knew 
nothing,  for  which  work  the  veriest  peasant, 


BEYOND    THE    BAR  255 

"  to  the  manor  born"  and  master  of  its  native 
tongue,  would  be  better  equipped. 

Paul  was  right.  Spiritual  truth  cannot  be 
intellectually  apprehended.  A  strong,  keen, 
intellect  is  often  a  bar  to  spiritual  discernment 
if  its  possessor  is  at  the  era  of  his  intellectual 
culmination.  He  is  then  only  conscious  on 
that  plane.  Intellectual  giants  are  often 
spiritual  pigmies.  And  to  the  man  on  this 
limited  plane  of  unfoldment,  a  perusal  of  the 
classified  list  of  haunted  houses,  apparitions 
and  other  phenomena,  which  are  most  inter- 
esting, whose  compilation  is  most  important, 
would  not  bring  conviction  or  conversion  until 
by  his  own  spiritual  unfoldment,  and  from  his 
increasing^rasp  of  truth,  he  would  quickly 
recognize  all  truth  that  appealed  to  him  from 
without,  independent  of  any  data.  Only  the 
awakened  spirit  can  discern  the  things  of  the 
spirit. 

As  an  example  of  the  blunders  the  most 
learned  scientists  are  capable  of  making,  a 
request  was  once  sent  out  from  this  Society 
that  all  who  had  ever  experienced  any 
"hallucination"  might  forthwith  report  the 
same,  duly  attested,  sworn  and  witnessed. 
The  meagre  response  to  their  appeal  convinced 
these  worthy  souls  that  such  experiences  were 
far  less  common  than  had  been  supposed. 


256  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Did  these  scientific  investigators  imagine  for 
one  moment  that  any  one  who  had  enjoyed 
the  sacred  privilege  of  beholding  or  conversing 
with  a  dear  mother,  sister,  or  friend,  would  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet  allow  such  holy 
experience  to  be  labelled  an  "hallucination" 
(which,  according  to  Worcester,  means  "  error, 
delusion  mistake,  a  perception  of  objects 
which  have  no  reality,  arising  from  some 
disease  of  the  mind,  imagination  or  nervous 
system");  would  any  intelligent  truth-seeking 
person  thus  brand  himself  with  dishonor? 
Never  !  while  the  ability  to  stand  by  one's 
sacred  convictions  endures.  An  "  apparition" 
never  can  be  held  for  examination  on  the  point 
of  a  surgeon's  scalpel,  to  be  duly  classified  and 
labelled. 

Another  more  amusing  error  in  psychic 
investigations  has  been  to  forget  the  law  that 
"  like  attracts  like, "  that 

"  If  you  bring  a  smiling  visage 
To  the  glass,  you  meet  a  smile," 

and  vice  versa.  In  other  words,  that  a  potent 
law  exists  that  one  always  gets  from  a  medium 
what  he  clothes  him  with.  If  he  intently 
watches  for  deceit  and  fraud,  he  is  merely 
calling  the  roll;  and  deception  usually  answers 
"here  !"  and  the  Psychical  Research  Society 
for  years  has  striven  to  prove  an  immortal 


BEYOND     THE    BAR  257 

truth  by  resorting  to  trickery,  by  endeavoring 
to  "  catch  the  spirits, ' '  placing  worthy  media 
under  detective  surveillance,  with  many  an- 
other dishonorable  device,  even  to  'the  un- 
worthy travesty  of  wearing  a  mask  and  disguise 
when  seeking  communion  with  saints  of  the 
upper  spheres, — a  spectacle  to  make  the  angels 
weep.  That,  in  spite  of  this  most  unworthy 
policy,  genuine  proofs  and  a  few  converts 
have  been  made  (while  other  cults  have  rolled 
up  their  intelligent  millions) ,  discloses  how 
anxious  is  the  spirit  world  to  be  recognized, 
in  its  close  relation  with  our  own  sphere 
of  consciousness.  The  angels  "  stoop  to  con- 
quer" even  to  the  level  of  human  ignorance 
and  blindness. 

But  as  it  is  too  late  in  the  history  of  the 
world's  advancement  to  need  any  proof  of 
spirit  communion,  the  incidents  therefore 
about  to  be  related  in  this  volume  scorn  any 
support  or  endorsement  but  their  own  unim- 
peachable verity.  Facts  are  strong  enough 
to  stand  on  their  own  feet.  The  almightiness 
of  Truth  will  take  care  of  its  own,  and  it  will 
prevail. 

As  it  was  not  necessary  in  the  foregoing  chap- 
ters when  alluding  for  example,  to  a  sudden 
hoarseness  which  seized  the  great  artist,  on 
one  occasion,  to  have  the  fact  sworn  to  by  the 


258  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

attending  physician  before  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  witnessed  by  the  entire  audience, 
and  invalidated  if  any  one  present  failed  to 
notice  the  temporary  embarrassment,  so,  since 
spiritual  facts  are  just  as  self  evident  and 
more  so,  than  physical  episodes,  it  is  equally 
unnecessary  to  more  than  state  the  following 
facts. 

The  ardent  disciple  of  Truth,  not  starting 
from  the  standpoint  that  all  men  and  women 
are  falsifiers  and  deceivers  until  laboriously 
proven  reliable,  will  not  condescend  to  admit 
for  one  moment,  that  invincible  truth  ever 
needs  proving.  Its  simple  statement  is  suf- 
ficient. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    NEXT   ACT    IN    LIFE'S    DRAMA. 

"  Glen.    I  can  call  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep. 

Hot.    Why,  so  can  I,  or  so  can  any  man; 
But  will  they  come  when  you  do  call  for  them?" 

—King  Henry  IV. 

But  the  chief  office  of  spirit  communion  is 
less  for  the  gratification  it  yields  as  proof  that 
if  a  man  dies,  he  lives  again,  or  for  the  con- 
tinued expression  of  affectionate  regard,  than 
for  the  opportunity  it  affords  for  service  to 
humanity.  There  is  a  vast  work  to  be  done 
for  this  world  of  shadows  by  the  angelic 
workers  who  bend  earthward  from  their 
spheres  of  light,  to  pierce  mundane  darkness 
and  error,  to  uplift  the  downcast,  protect  the 
tempted,  strengthen  the  weak,  heal  the  sick, 
comfort  the  sorrowing,  enlighten  the  ignorant, 
to  impress  upon  the  aspiring  mind  thoughts 
of  wisdom,  of  illumination  regarding  the  world 
of  Spirit,  a  revealment  of  spiritual  laws,  thus 
encouraging  an  unfoldment  of  a  true  spiritual 
life,  which  will  eventually  redeem  the  mate- 
riality of  earth  and  usher  in  the  Light  of  a 
New  Day. 

Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,   sent 

259 


260  JOHN     McCULLOUGH  x 

forth  to  minister  unto  those  who  shall  be 
heirs  of  this  salvation? 

Can  we  conceive,  then,  that  a  soul  like 
McCullough's,  whose  every  thought  was  to 
minister  to  the  needy  of  earth,  to  help  and 
serve  humanity,  ever  on  charitable  work 
intent,  could  so  change  its  every  fibre  and 
impulse  that  it  could  be  contented  to  remain 
idle  even  in  Paradise,  or  to  selfishly  think 
only  of  its  own  progression,  onward  and 
upward?  We  cannot  accept  such  a  violation 
of  the  law  of  being.  Snatched  away  in  the 
prime  of  power  and  usefulness,  with  its 
impetus  toward  kindly  service  unexpended, 
if  it  were  possible  for  this  grand  soul  to  turn 
from  the  higher  spheres,  from  the  blessedness 
"that  called  after  him  in  vain,"  and  minister 
to  every  heart  that  he  could  reach  on  earth, 
we  know  he  would  gladly,  eagerly  embrace 
such  opportunity. 

The  necessary  gateway  for  this  work,  of 
course,  is  a  mortal  instrument  to  use,  a  pliable 
psychic  nature,  whose  spirit  is  not  so  en- 
meshed with  clay  that  it  cannot  withdraw 
from  its  organism  as  it  does  in  sleep,  or  as  the 
hand  is  slipped  from  the  glove,  and  allows 
another  hand  to  wear  the  glove,  temporarily; 
the  umbilical  cord  of  spiritual  connection  not 
being  severed,  but  the  embodied  spirit  stands 


THE    NEXT    ACT    IN    LIFE'S    DRAMA      2G1 

aside  while  a  spirit  disembodied  is  permitted 
to  ensphere  the  relinquished  form  and  use  it 
briefly  as  its  own.  This  visitor  from  the 
spheres  has  not  lost  the  power  of  speech,  but 
lacks  the  material  vocal  organs  that  would 
enable  him  to  be  heard  in  this  realm  of  lower 
vibrations,  and  so  is  enforced  to  borrow  these 
tools  of  use,  by  which  to  transmit  his  message. 
The  limitations  of  the  medium's  brain  are 
often  a  serious  detriment  to  the  perfect  ex- 
pression of  the  inspirer's  thought,  as  the 
medium  may  never  have  evolved  brain-cells 
which  the  arisen  spirit,  when  embodied,  pos- 
sessed and  used  habitually,  and  to  now  per- 
fectly represent  himself  would  be  as  difficult 
as  for  a  harpist  to  awaken  perfect  melody  on 
an  instrument  from  which  several  strings 
were  missing.  There  are  other  laws  which 
also  restrict  a  satisfactory  magnetic  and 
electric  rapport,  and  adaptability  between 
operator  and  subject.  The  spirit  who  seeks 
the  opportunity  of  noble  service  on  this  plane, 
often  has  to  search  long  and  diligently  for  a 
suitable  agent  for  his  control,  or  co-operation. 
Sometimes  a  close  affinity  between  two 
natures,  or  some  connecting  link  with  a  long 
bygone  past,  where  once  their  souls  were  one, 
is  the  deciding  cause  which  binds  two  entities 
together. 


262  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

Of  this  nature  may  have  been  McCullough's 
attraction  toward  his  chosen  instrument. 
But  that  some  channel  for  humanitarian 
endeavor  was  a  necessity  for  this  royal  soul, 
none  who  knew  his  active  spirit,  his  charitable 
impulse,  could  doubt.  As  the  poet  has  so 
beautifully  said,  if  any  soul  was  "  Dowered 
with  love  angelic,  thou  wert  one."  and  his 
"heavenly  kindness"  still  is  "showered  on 
every  sufferer  'neath  the  sun."  That  "kind- 
ness" with  renewed  force,  since  all  of  dross 
has  been  purged  away,  craved  expression  and 
exercise.  As  he  himself  has  since  said,  regard- 
ing his  premature  departure  from  this  plane: 

"  My  work  in  life  was  never  finished  in 
many  ways.  It  was  not  enough  that  I  should 
deliver  well  the  thoughts  of  others;  my  own 
thoughts  and  ideas  craved  expression,  and 
to-day  I  find  my  greatest  pleasure  in  giving 
forth  truth  to  the  world.  When  I  once  gave 
expression  to  the  highest  portrayal  of  emo- 
tion, I  always  felt  there  was  a  something  left 
unexpressed."  Then  he  added,  with  a  little 
hesitancy  and  self-deprecatory  tone:  .  "They 
used  to  think  I  did  considerable  good  in 
charitable  ways,  but  I  feel  that  I  did  nothing 
compared  with  what  I  now  want  to  do.  The 
ideal  of  my  life  was  never  fulfilled,  so  much 
that  I  wanted  to  do  was  never  accomplished." 


THE  NEXT  ACT  IN  LIFE'S  DRAMA       263 

And  so  he  turned  from  the  realm  of  peace 
and  joy,  the  spirit  world  where  he  might  have 
remained  continuously  if  he  chose,  and  took 
upon  himself  a  laborious  work,  rigidly  keep- 
ing appointments  like  any  day  laborer  with 
needy  mortals,  ministering  unto  their  neces- 
sities, healing  their  heart- wounds,  a  work 
which  he  has  carried  now  these  many  years, 
making  more  friends,  who  are  always  his 
admirers,  a  perhaps  wider  acquaintance  than 
he  enjoyed  in  life,  among  those  who  have 
watched  eagerly  for  his  eloquent  utterances, 
who  have  been  educated,  comforted,  uplifted 
by  his  kindly  offices. 

The  medium  through  whom  he  has  per- 
formed so  many  labors  of  love,  is  known  to 
the  world  as.  Rev.  F.  A.  Wiggin,  a  very  gifted 
psychic,  now  pastor  of  the  Boston  Spiritual 
Temple  Society.  This  well  known  worker 
was  educated  for  another  field,  being  in  his 
youth  prepared  for  the  Baptist  ministry,  at 
Colgate  College,  then  Madison  Uniyersity, 
situated  at  Hamilton,  N.  Y.  Later,  he 
preached  in  the  Spring  Hill  Baptist  church, 
Somerville,  Mass.,  the  First  Baptist  church 
in  Rockport,  and  assisted  for  a  time  in  the 
work  of  the  Ruggles  street  Baptist  church  of 
Boston,  of  which  he  was  a  member  six  years. 


264  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

But  there  came  a  time,  while  fulfilling  his 
clerical  office,  when  the  light  of  the  Spirit 
descended  upon  him,  as  upon  Saul  of  Tarsus, 
and  a  voice  sounded  through  the  chambers 
of  his  soul,  "  Come  work  in  my  spiritual 
vineyard."  Marked  phenomena  began  to 
occur  unsought  in  his  presence,  his  spiritual 
eyes  and  ears  were  opened,  the  sentient  touch 
was  developed  and  complete  entrancement 
followed,  when  he  began  to  deliver  long  ad- 
dresses from  one  and  another  inspiring  intel- 
ligence, of  which  he  was  not  cognizant,  and 
for  which  his  own  brain  did  not  furnish  the 
subject  matter. 

While  speaking  thus  on  one  occasion,  in 
the  autumn  of  1886,  in  the  city  of  Portland, 
Maine,  a  great  change  in  his  manner  was 
noted,  an  increased  grandeur  of  thought  and 
utterance,  with  most  dramatic  mien,  poise, 
and  gesture.  He  strode  the  platform,  or 
stood  with  folded  arms  as  only  a  master  of 
the  tragic  art  could,  and  when  at  the  close,  a 
gentleman  in  the  audience,  in  his  admiration 
and  surprise  at  this  notable  discourse,  so 
unusual  in  its  delivery,  asked  if  the  controlling 
intelligence  would  kindly  give  his  name, 
received  the  reply: 

"  I  am  John  McCullough,  the  actor. ' ' 

Of  this  the  medium  was  told,  on  coming  to 


THE  NEXT  ACT  IN  LIFE'S  DRAMA         265 

consciousness,  to  his  own  great  marvel,  for 
he  had  never  known  the  eminent  tragedian, 
and  why  this  avenue  of  expression  should  be 
chosen  by  the  noble  spirit  was  then  a  mys- 
tery. This  was  the  first  instance,  so  far  as 
known,  of  McCullough's  inspiration,  but  by 
no  means  the  last,  and  the  number  of  hungry 
hearts  he  has  since  helped  and  instructed 
through  this  agency  in  the  years  that  have 
followed,  only  the  recording  angel  can  number. 

If  the  incredulous  doubter  suggests  that  any 
tricksy  spirit  might  have  used  this  well  known 
name,  or  even  the  medium's  own  subliminal, 
subjective,  sub-conscious  Ego  (whatever  that 
prolific  source  of  most  unscrupulous  decep- 
tion may  be),  and  ask  for  further  proof,  the 
answer  can  be  made  that  "  seeing  is  believing. " 
The  manner  in  which  one  assures  himself, 
when  he  meets  a  man  on  the  street,  whether 
the  stranger  is  black  or  white,  an  Italian  or 
a  Chinese,  is  to  use  his  eyes,  as  McCullough's 
clairvoyant  auditors  have  always  done.  Those 
whose  spiritual  vision  is  unfolded  can  see  him 
on  the  platform  as  plainly  as  they  see  the 
medium. 

As  illustrative  of  this  possibility,  an  in- 
stance can  be  related  of  more  recent  date. 
It  has  been  the  occasional  custom  of  a  lady 
who  gratefully  loves  the  grand  spirit,'  to  send 


266  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

to  this  platform,  which  he  has  honored  and 
blessed  with  his  presence,  some  floral  offer- 
ing, in  observance  of  '  his  birthday.  '  Once, 
when  a  basket  of  flowers  had  been  placed  on 
the  desk  in  Berkeley  Hall,  Boston,  where  the 
society  then  worshipped,  a  lady  in  the  audi- 
ence, who  can  be  labelled  as  Mrs.  A.,  saw 
McCullough  come  onto  the  platform  before 
the  service  began,  approach  the  table  and 
inspect  the  flowers  with  an  interested,  pleased 
expression,  and  then  raising  his  eyes,  he  turned 
toward  the  farthest  corner  of  the  hall  and 
sent  a  glance  of  grateful  recognition  in  that 
direction.  Turning  to  follow  his  gaze,  Mrs. 
A.  saw  sitting  there,  the  lady  who  had  hon- 
ored the  day  with  her  floral  gift,  although  the 
hall  might  have  been  searched  for  her  in  vain, 
without  this  hint  from  McCullough. 

How  does  he  look,  what  garb  does  he  wear? 
He  looks  every 'inch  a  king,  as  he  ever  did, 
but  with  a  new  grandeur  of  expression,  an 
exalted  aspiration,  an  indescribable  light  upon 
his  face.  And  he  habitually  wears  the  white 
toga  which  was  indeed  a  part  of  his  person- 
ality, which  perhaps  was  familiar  to  him  in 
ages  agone,  before  he  walked  these  earthly 
paths.  Only  twice  in  the  writer's  recognition, 
has  he  assumed  a  purple,  gold-embroidered 
robe,  similar  to  the  one  which  adorned  his 


VIRGINIUS 


THE  NEXT  ACT  IN  LIFE'S  DRAMA        267 

role  of  Coriolanus.  But  he  seems  an  apothe- 
osis of  Virginius.  Indeed  the  writer  herself 
once  heard  the  beloved  voice  whispering  at 
the  gateway  of  the  inner  ear: 

"  You  never  like  to  call  me  '  John '  as  others 
do.  Why  not  call  me  'Virginius'?  I  have  a 
right  to  that  name." 

At  an  early  era  of  his  work,  Mr.  Wiggin  was 
speaking  in  Pittsburg,  Pa.,  and  giving  also 
private  interviews  at  the  Anderson  Hotel,  to 
which  service  McCullough  always  lent  his 
aid,  to  bring  private  messages  from  the 
friends  of  the  sitter,  or  enlightenment  to  any 
seeker  for  Truth.  To  the  medium's  room 
came  one  day,  a  stranger  and  a  skeptic,  for 
purposes  of  investigation.  The  interview  was 
granted,  and  when  Mr.  Wiggin  again  recovered 
consciousness,  he  found  the  gentleman  was  in 
tears,  in  explanation  of  which  he  exclaimed: 

"  I  am  Thomas  Keene.  I  have  been  talking 
with  my  old  friend,  John  McCullougJi,  and  / 
know  that  it  was  he." 

One  summer,  a  year  or  two  later,  another 
stranger  visited  Onset,  Mass.,  to  witness  the 
phenomena  then  occurring  through  a  lady 
medium  resident  there.  He  was  unknown  to 
any  one  present,  but  soon  McCullough,  whom 
he  had  never  hitherto  met,  came  to  him, 
assuming  so  tangible  a  form  that  he  could  see 


268  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

the  spirit  distinctly,  and  requested  a  favor  of 
the  visitor.  He  informed  him  that  the  young 
man  through  whom  he  usually  worked  was 
at  that  moment  in  the  Marcy  House  of  that 
town,  very  ill,  with  an  attack  incident  to  the 
summer  season.  He  was  alone,  and  Mc- 
Cullough  feared  he  would  have  a  very  sick 
night  and  need  personal  attendance,  but 
seeing  the  stranger  was  possessed  of  some 
medical  skill,  he  begged  him  to  go  and  minister 
unto  his  medium. 

At  the  close  of  the  seance,  the  stranger 
asked  those  present  what  the  spirit  meant. 
He  was  informed  that  McCullough  worked 
through  a  Mr.  Wiggin,  and  that  this  gentle- 
man, then  unknown  to  the  Camp  at  Onset, 
was  advertised  to  speak  there  for  the  first 
time,  the  coming  week,  but  they  had  not 
heard  of  his  arrival.  Thus  importuned  how- 
ever, the  visitor  sought  out  the  Marcy  House, 
learned  that  Mr.  Wiggin  had  arrived,  coming 
on  the  last  train,  and  therefore  the  gentleman 
sent  up  his  card.  Fpllowing  the  servant,  he 
heard  a  voice  say: 

" No,  I  am  too  ill  to  see  any  one  to-night." 
So  the  stranger  pushed  open  the  door,  and 
entering,  was  enabled  to  render  timely  aid, 
in  an  hour  of  sore  need,  remaining  with  the 
sick  man  throughout  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HIS  PUBLIC  WORK. 

"  When  I  go  down  to  the  grave  I  can  say,  like 
many  others,  '  I  have  finished  my  day's  work,'  but 
I  cannot  say,  '  I  have  finished  my  life.'  My  day's 
work  will  begin  the  next  morning." 

— Victor  Hugo. 

It  is  a  well  known  fact  that  the  manner  in 
which  a  truth  is  uttered  impresses  the  hearer 
with  greater  or  less  import,  in  proportion  to 
its  excellence  of  delivery,  a  simple  message, 
accompanied  by  magnetic  fire  in  the  speaker, 
often  thrilling  the  heart  more  potently  than  a 
more  profound  idea  if  stumblingly,  falteringly 
conveyed. 

It  is  this  matchless  feature  of  McCullough's 
utterance  that  has  enriched  his  addresses  and 
made  them  impressive.  He  has  made  no 
attempt  at  profound  discourse,  his  desire  was 
to  touch  the  hearts  of  his  auditors  with,  a 
practical  message,  to  inspire  them  with  a  love 
of  spiritual  truth,  with  an  incentive  to  duty, 
righteousness,  of  noble  service  to  others,  and 
thus  in  a  simple  way,  to  sweeten  and  beautify 
the  world  in  which  they  live.  His  yearning 
tenderness  for  all  humanity  is  ever  felt  in  all 
that  he  does  and  says.  But  the  potent 

269 


270 

inspiration  of  his  presence  and  aura  (so  keenly 
felt,  even  when  unseen),  the  fire  and  fervor, 
eloquence  and  dramatic  intensity  of  his 
delivery,  what  pen  can  ever  describe?  At 
the  present  time,  Mr.  Wiggin  speaks  most 
frequently  in  his  normal  state,  although  the 
presence  and  thought  of  the  beloved  inspirer 
are  often  felt. 

A  few  extracts  are  here  re-produced  as 
examples  of  McCullough's  practical  teachings. 
On  October  15,  1899,  his  Sunday  morning's 
discourse  began: 

"  'All  the  men  in  the  world  can't  make  a 
statue  walk.' 

,"  Every  human  being  is  only  a  statue, 
unless  infilled  with  the  Spirit.  The  time 
is  coming  when  the  Spirit  will  speak  to 
the  hearts  of  men,  intelligently.  The  Voice 
will  be  heard  within,  as  well  as  without. 
The  man  who  gains  the  knowledge  of  Spirit 
in  this  life,  does  not  enter  the  next  life  in  the 
kindergarten,  but  in  the  advanced  course. 
Now  how  can  a  merchant,  absorbed  in  busi- 
ness, unfold  his  spirituality?  By  throwing  all 
the  spiritual  thought  he  possibly  can  into  his 
dealings  with  the  world.  Spiritualize  every 
action,  even  in  the  sweeping  of  a  room.  Send 
forth  the  best,  most  faithful  force  of  the 
spirit,  and  you  will  develop  more  spirituality 


HIS    PUBLIC   WORK  271 

in  one  day,  than  you  could  by  sitting  in 
effortless  silence,  one  hundred  days. 

"  Did  these  flowers  go  and  sit  before  they 
bloomed  ?  No  !  From  the  moment  the  seeds 
were  planted,  aided  by  the  chemical  prop- 
erties of  the  soil,  the  warmth  and  dews  of 
heaven,  the  central  germ  of  life  was  struggling 
for  expression  every  moment.  There  was  not 
one  second  of  idleness,  or  of  sitting  still. 
Then  work,  work,  work  constantly,  work  that 
ye  may  grow  in  the  natural,  as  in  the  spiritual 
world.  But,  '  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  and  its  righteousness,  and  all  these 
other  things  shall  be  added  unto  you. ' 

"Then  take  your  Spiritualism  down  from 
the  pedestal  where  you  admire  or  criticize  it 
as  a  statue,  and  so  fill  it  with  spiritual  life  that 
it  will  walk  forth  into  the  world  bearing  its 
potent  message  to  humanity. 

"  For  it  is  not  all  of  life  to  live,  it  is  the  all 
of  life  to  love." 

On  November  5,  1899,  the  speaker  an- 
nounced: 

"  My  text  is  from  Milton. 

"  He  spake:  and  to  confirm  his  words,  out-flew 
Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  Cherubim:  the  sudden  blaze 
Far  round  illumined  Hell." 

"Milton  is  one  of  the  poets  of  the  past. 


272  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

i 

Every  individual  is  a  latent  poem,  and  the 
reason  why  every  man  or  woman  is  not  a 
poet  is  because  the  poem  of  their  lives  has  not 
yet  been  written.  Until  the  innate  poetry 
of  their  own  lives  becomes  a  part  of  their 
experience,  they  cannot  write  poetry.  For 
poetry  is  not  a  mass  of  sentimentalism,  not 
the  weaving  together  of  words  that  will 
rhyme  at  the  end  of  a  line.  The  true  poet  is 
the  man  who  lives  nearest  to  the  thought  and 
being  of  God,  who  almost  lays  his  finger  tip 
on  the  pulse-beat  of  the  Almighty,  one  who 
feels  poetry  in  every  experience  of  life,  sees 
Life  in  everything,  one  who  hears  through 
flinty  rocks,  sermons  more  eloquently 
preached  than  any  through  lips  of  flesh. 

"The  earth  was  considered  flat  until  man 
attained  more  sphericity,  until  man  had 
absorbed  more  of  God  within,  and  then  the 
world  to  him  was  round.  It  is  round  because 
God  made  it,  and  he  never  made  anything 
flat.  God  formulates  sphericity. 

"The  true  man  only  speaks  because  the 
spirit  within  must  express  itself.  It  is  in  him 
and  must  come  out,  those  words  of  Truth 
'  whose  sudden  blaze '  illumines  the  darkest 
hell  of  ignorance.  And  man  can  speak,  and 
use  no  language  at  all.  A  man  can  speak 
through  music  what  he  fails  to  tell  me, 


HIS    PUBLIC    WORK  273 

although  music  is  often  but  an  attempt  to 
bring  into  proper  relativity  certain  discords. 
Ah,  but  the  poet  hears  the  music  in  the  soft 
ripples  of  the  waves,  the  music  of  the  wind  as 
it  rushes  through  the  pines,  and  sets  the 
leaves  to  dancing  in  graceful  courtesies,  he 
sees  the  music  in  thy  life,  oh  mortal,  in 
conditions  not  expressed  by  thy  soul. 

"  Poetry  is  the  music  speaking  as  man  never 
spake,  for  it  is  of  God;  the  soul  is  lifted  thereby, 
nearer  to  its  own  self.  The  Book  of  Job  is 
not  of  Hebrew  origin  but  Arabic,  more  Koran 
than  Bible,  more  Truth  than  either.  How  I 
love  to  read  it,  and  do  read  it  a  great  deal. 
Byron  was  a  genius  who  went  before  you  had 
time  to  take  his  hand  and  say  '  I  love  you. ' 
Byron  !  I  see  him  now,  with  his  scarf 
loosened,  his  neck  bared  to  the  winds,  or  to 
the  heat  of  the  scorching  sun,  which  burned 
into  that  greater  light  and  heat  within  his 
soul,  that  he  might  speak  of  it  to  you. 

"  Does  love  seem  merely  sweet  to  you  ? 
Man  may  say  '  Love  ?  O  Love  is  so  soft. ' 
True  love  can  'turn  to  the  one  who  utters  such 
sentiment  and  say,  ' Thou  fool  of  ignorance; 
thy  heart  is  so  hard  that  I  cannot  penetrate 
it,  but  I  am  God  that  speaketh,  for  I  am  Love. 
I  will  meet  you  yet  when  your  heart  is 
softened. ' 


274  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

"  Much  that  passes  for  love  is  mere  senti- 
ment. True  love  is  never  a  reflector  but 
always  a  radiator.  Can  you  radiate  love,  or 
are  you  simply  the  mimic,  the  imitator?  Are 
you  a  Christian  because  an  imitator  of  Jesus? 
Is  your  life  a  counterfeit,  or  do  you  show 
forth  the  principles  of  Jesus  in  your  everyday 
actions?  If  you  are  radiating  the  life  of 
Christ,  then  thou  art  a  Christian,  whatever 
thy  name.  It  is  not  the  man  who  lives  in 
a  palace  who  lives  the  life  that  shines.  King 
George  could  not  help  being  King,  but  I  know 
a  boy  who  was  a  rail-splitter,  and,  stretched 
before  a  fire,  learned  his  lessons  that  helped 
him  to  be  President.  I  would  rather  be  one 
Abraham  Lincoln,  than  one  thousand  King 
Georges. 

"  Honor  to  the  man  who  speaks  because  he 
is  a  radiator  of  Truth.  You  may  imitate  such 
a  one  sometimes,  but  you  will  sometime  forget 
to  imitate,  and  then  your  falsity  is  apparent. 
That  man  is  not  a  gentleman  because  he  is  a 
reflector  of  some  one  else  who  is  a  gentleman. 
Try  to  develop  your  own  manhood  and 
womanhood  here,  and  for  the  hereafter,  too, 
so  that  when  the  Word  for  thee  is  spoken 
'thousands  of  blazing  swords  will  far  around 
illumine'  all  darkness  for  thee." 


HIS    PUBLIC    WORK  275 

By  request,  on  a  later  occasion,  McCullough 
spoke  on  '  Mediumship  '  taking  for  his  text, 
"  To  him  that  hath  shall  be  given. " 

"  It  is  a  rich  and  beautiful  gift  to  be  a 
psychic,  and,  to  develop  mediumship,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  retire  ffom  the  world,  to  shut 
out  all  noise  and  sit  in  the  silence,,  but  rather 
by  using  the  tumult  as  a  mighty  rushing 
wind,  as  every  force  of  Truth  to  bear  you 
onward.  Mediumship  is  becoming  conscious 
on  the  spiritual  plane,  being  conscious  of 
spiritual  things.  But  watch  carefully.  The 
time  has  come  to  be  wary.  More  and  more 
is  the  world  crying, '  Show  me  the  Truth;  give 
me  a  bridge  over  into  the  realm  of  Light. '  O 
the  beautiful  Light  of  Truth,  which  the  Great 
Divine  .Law-Maker  and  Soul  of  the  universe 
has  bestowed  upon  us. 

"What  is  the  Light?  The  Light  is  yourself 
—the  Light  is  God.  Live  no  more  in  dark- 
ness, but  live  in  the  Light.  When  you,  die, 
you  do  not  leave  your  body;  your  body  leaves 
you.  You  are  the  reality;  the  body  only  the 
thing  created,  the  product  of  your  thought. 
You  will  not  cease  to  live;  you  will  live  more 
every  year,  rather  than  less. 

"  All  men  are  good,  equally  good,  all  children 
of  the  same  Parent,  all  living  for  the  same  end, 
all  bound  to  find  the  same  result  in  life,  all 


276  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

cast  into  the  same  crucible,  in  which  are  cer- 
tain chemical  properties,  from  which  a  ripened 
humanity  is  evolved.  Once  in  awhile,  there 
is  a  pair  of  eyes  which  are  used  as  windows 
for  some  comprehensive  soul,  through  which 
to  gain  a  view  of  trTe  hill- tops  of  eternity. 
For  what  is  eternity,  if  not  the  sum  total  of 
time ;  and  one  of  the  grandest  features  of  soul- 
consciousness  is  the  realization  of  immor- 
tality. To  gain  this  consciousness  is  the 
greatest  bulwark  of  power;  it  is  a  union  with 
the  heart  of  Almighty  God,  in  which  the 
vibrations  beat  and  throb  and  teem  with 
life,  in  which  '  I  and  my  Father  are  one. ' 
All  evolution  struggles  for  the  consciousness 
of  the  immortal.  Everywhere  the  great  seeth- 
ing sea  of  the  universe  is  struggling  for  life;  it 
is  the  prophecy  of  its  living  voice,  and  the 
destiny  which  is  its  own. 

"  Mediumship  is  universal;  every  one  is  a 
medium.  Mediumship  is  the  result  of  certain 
combinations  of  life  and  certain  chemical 
activities,  in  expression.  In  its  perfect  state, 
it  is  the  result  of  the  individual's  spiritual 
development  and  unfoldment.  Mediumship 
depends  on  the  organization,  not  on  morality, 
but  while  not  dependent  on  morality,  the 
value  of  mediumship  to  the  world  is  depend- 
ent and  enhanced  not  only  on  morality  but 


HIS    PUBLIC   WORK  277 

on  many  other  features.  It  does  not  rely  on 
boasting  of  its  own  powers,  and  it  is  a  pitiable 
picture  for  a  medium  to  pose  before  the  world 
as  the  possessor  of  great  gifts.  Jesus  or 
Mahomet  did  not  fill  the  world  with  their  own 
laudations.  The  honesty  of  purpose  of  true 
mediumship  needs  no  such  bolstering  as  flam- 
ing advertisements.  People  are  not  such 
dupes  that  they  cannot  feel  as  well  as  hear 
and  see,  if  one's  purposes  are  guarded  in  the 
light  of  honesty.  There  is  a  very  great  differ- 
ence between  the  ring  of  a  bell  that  is  cracked 
and  one  that  is  not,  and  all  I  want  to  know 
about  the  bell  of  mediumship  is  that  it  is 
whole  and  sound. 

"  The  object  of  mediumship  is  to  further  the 
need  of  a  spiritualized  manhood.  The  time 
is  here  and  this  is  the  hour,  when  medium- 
ship  must  be  sought  for,  by  a  purer  and  holier 
purpose  than  the  advancement  of  commercial 
interests.  The  world  is  asking  to-day  for  the 
bread  of  life,  and  some  so-called  mediums  hurl 
into  the  faces  of  such  honest  seekers  a  stone. 
Did  Jesus  do  his  work  and  tell  people  to 
blazon  it  broadcast?  No  !  but  counselled 
them  '  see  that  thou  tell  no  man. '  He  called 
to  the  fishermen,  '  Cast  your  net  on  the  right 
side,'  and  there  never  is  but  one  side  that  is 
'right, 'all others  are  wrong,  that  is  the  side  of 


278  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

Truth.  Cast  your  net  there,  and  it  will  be 
filled. 

"  When  mediumship  is  more  intelligently 
understood,  it  will  be  a  grander,  more  beautiful 
help  to  the  world  and  fraudulent  mediumship 
will  be  driven  from  the  world  forever.  You 
may  discover  all  the  frauds  you  desire,  but 
you  have  not  thereby  added  one  iota  to  the 
great  monument  of  Truth,  but  when  you 
have  placed  that  monument  before  the  world, 
its  light  will  shine  out  with  a  potency  which 
will  not  only  reveal  fraud  but  will  burn  it. 
There  is  a  great  difference  between  the  reveal- 
ment  of  error  and  its  destruction.  You  never 
will  destroy  error  or  fraud  until  you  have 
illumined  the  consciousness  of  humanity. 
That  will  be  its  death  blow;  the  consciousness 
of  Truth  will  ring  the  knell  of  all  error,  be- 
cause the  consciousness  of  what  is  true  or 
false  becomes  a  possession  of  every  person, 
who  thus  escapes  the  consequence  of  being 
led  by  error. 

"Scripture  says,  'The  mind  of  man  is  at 
enmity  with  God."  This  statement  is  untrue. 
The  natural  mind  of  man  is  not  at  enmity 
with  God;  it  is  in  love  with  God,  subject  to 
His  will  and  inhaling  His  love  for  His  child. 
It  is  perverted  naturalism,  the  carnal  mind, 
which  is  not  in  union  with  its  Father.  Hu- 


HIS    PUBLIC   WORK  279 

manity  is  so  subject  to  these  shadows  of  life, 
that  it  forgets  its  privilege  to  live  in  the  sun- 
light of  realities. 

"  Now  if  all  possess  mediumship,  how  can  it 
become  beautifully  expressed?  Its  unfold- 
ment  is  related  to  the  temperament  of  the 
person  and  the  means  of  unfoldment  lie 
within  the  consciousness  of  the  Ego.  No  one 
can  unfold  mediumship  for  another.  It  is  the 
soul,  the  conscious  Ego  which  climbs  the 
ladder  of  spiritual  consciousness,  rung  by  rung, 
until  the  head  reaches  out  into  the  conscious- 
ness of  spiritual  life,  up  into  the  Light  of  God, 
where  one  knows  spiritual  things  when  he 
sees  them,  and  can  make  others  feel  them, 
rising  up  from  the  consciousness  of  man  to 
the  consciousness  of  manhood — angelhood— 
Godhood  —  a  grand  trinity  !  Let  evil  into 
thy  life,  and  you  drag  the  angel  within  down, 
down,  down,  into  the  mire  of  dirt  and  dis- 
trust, while  if  mediumship  is  unfolded  in  the 
right  way,  it  brings  the  consciousness  up,  up, 
up,  into  the  higher  selfhood  in  its  union  with 
God,  to  dwell  on  the  heights  of  the  soul, 
where  you  can  show  to  the  world  the  path- 
ways and  bridges  of  Truth. 

"  Oh  this  restless  striving  after  something 
mystical,  something  unnatural,  instead  of 
seeking  the  things  of  God.  The  beauty  of 


280  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

life  lies  in  its  naturalness  and  simplicity.  It 
is  the  universal  power  that  speaks  through 
the  medium,  as  also  through  the  healer.  You 
cannot  heal  yourself  unless  yourself  is  realized. 
When  you  come  to  this  realization,  it  is  far 
more  than  knowledge;  you  realize  that  the 
power  of  God  is  within  you,  and  will  work 
through  you. 

"  The  great  and  beautiful  help  which  the 
metaphysical  thought  is  bringing  to  the  world 
is  to  show  that  sickness  has  no  reality  or 
power  over  you,  or  it  gives  you  power  to  rise 
above  it.  Many  sit  and  sit  for  the  develop- 
ment of  mediumship.  What  did  Jesus  say? 
Why  stand  ye  here  all  the  day  idle?  You 
destroy  yourself  with  inertia.  Go  ye  and 
work  in  the  vineyard  of  the  world.  Work 
for  the  good  of  humanity;  be  a  true  evangel 
of  light  to  shine  into  a  darkened  world.  Some 
seek  to  be  a  light,  simply  to  shine  before  men. 
Seek  instead  to  be  a  transmitter  of  Truth,  to 
meet  the  heart-hunger  of  your  neighbor. 

"  By  unfolding  your  own  consciousness,  you 
rise  above  the  common  atmosphere  of  the 
world  and  feel  the  quickening  of  the  God 
within.  This  is  the  quest  of  life,  but  thou  art 
Him  whom  thou  seeketh.  Thou  art  God;  and 
thine  imperfect,  unawakened  self  is  the  devil. 
You  cannot  erase  that  tablet  on  thy  soul, 


7/75    PUBLIC    WORK  281 

and  the  recording  angel  is  thyself.  You  hurl 
the  shuttle  through  and  through  the  warp 
and  woof  of  your  life,  and  what  is  that  shuttle? 
It  is  thought — thought  on  which  you  are 
building.  Ah,  note  that  scarlet  thread  of 
revenge  which  you  placed  there  yesterday— 
ah,  what  a  bloody  smirch  it  makes  !  Note  the 
dirt  of  material  desires  !  How  will  you  erase 
them?  For  out  they  must  come,  if  the  whole 
warp  and  woof  have  to  be  unravelled,  for  the 
web  must  and  shall  be — white  \ 

"In  the  Roman  arena,  when  the  victorious 
gladiator  hesitated  before  plunging  his  sword 
into  his  adversary  until  cultured  ladies  cried, 
"kill — kill,"  often  when  raising  the  helmet, 
he  found  the  face  of  a  brother.  May  we  never 
find  out  there  in  the  Beyond,  where  the  masks 
are  lifted  off  from  all  faces,  that  we  have  ever 
stabbed  the  heart  of  a  friend,  whom  we 
thought  an  enemy.  There  is  only  one  enemy 
in  the  world;  his  name  is  ignorance,  and  only 
one  God,  whose  name  is  Truth." 

The  writer  hesitates  to  do  injustice  to  the 
noble  and  eloquent  speaker  by  adding  further 
of  these  imperfect  notes,  taken  at  random, 
with  no  thought  of  publication,  and  which, 
lacking  the  earnestness  and  warm  atmos- 
phere of  the  strong  entity  back  of  them,  seem 


282  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

like  the  scaffolding  of  a  temple,  or  the  skele- 
ton from  which  the  spirit  has  withdrawn. 
They  are  merely  withered  rose  leaves  which 
dropped  from  a  vase  full  of  beautiful  flowers 
of  thought  and  aspiration. 

McCullough  often  takes  his  text  from  his 
beloved  Shakespeare,  a  recent  discourse  choos- 
ing for  its  theme,  this  quotation  from  "  Mac- 
beth": 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased; 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow; 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain; 
And,  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote, 
Cleanse  the  stuffed  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart?" 

The  mere  recitation  of  these  lines  was  a 
feast  in  itself,  but  to  justly  appreciate  the 
discourse  it  must  be  enjoyed  in  its  entirety. 
In  closing,  he  exhorted  his  hearers,  with 
the  beauty  of  simplicity,  to  "  Be  uniformly 
kind,  and  in  this  way  to  '  minister  unto  minds 
diseased.'  There  is  no  virtue  in  right  living 
like  the  habit  of  being  kind.  There  is  nothing 
very  difficult  in  that,  but  there  is  no  truer 
religion,  no  higher  Spiritualism  ever  preached 
to  the  world  than  the  religion  of  being  kind, 
and  who  is  there  that  can't  be  kind? 

"  Every  day  is  a  judgment  day,  the  record- 
ing angel  still  a  record  keeps  of  each  deed  thou 
dost  perform,  of  every  thought  which  thou 


HIS    PUBLIC    WORK  283 

framest,  of  every  kindly  deed  thou  hast  done, 
of  every  act  in  which  duty  shines.  Do  right 
because  it  is  right  to  do  right." 

On  another  Sabbath  morning,  the  text 
chosen  was  from  "  Hamlet ' ' : 

"  What  is  a  man, 

If  his  chief  good,  and  market  of  his  time, 
Be  but  to  sleep  and  feed?    A  beast,  no  more." 

from  which  a  brief  extract  is  added. 

"  Man  is  a  being,  not  destined  for,  but  ever 
living  in  eternity.  The  world  where  mortality 
obtains  is  but  a  passing  panorama,  a  vestibule 
through  which  all  have  passage,  introductory 
to  a  universe  of  immortal  existence.  There 
is  an  intellectual  principle  which  marshals 
all  corporeal  frames  as  implements  for  expres- 
sion, and  when  it  ceases  to  animate  these,  it 
continues  its  never- tiring  activities,  associated 
with  a  spiritual  body.  The  spiritual  world 
needs  its  nursery,  preparatory  to  entering 
upon  the  highway  of  advanced  enjoyment, 
and  the  world  of  human  experience  furnishes 
all  this,  and  that  man  is  indeed*  wise  who 
embraces  God's  beneficent  and  munificent 
opportunities. 

"Experience  has  revealed  to  me  the  im- 
portant fact,  that  vices  or  virtues,  not  only 
have  their  influence  upon  all,  while  dwelling 


284  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

in  the  realm" of  mortality,  but  also  stretch  out 
into  the  future  world  and  every  disposition 
cultivated,  points  with  unerring  accuracy  to 
that  which  will  constitute  weal  or  woe,  in  the 
unseen  existence.  As  an  excarnate  being,  I 
will  affirm  that  the  sunset  hour  of  death  is 
but  a  brief  moment  of  shadow  which  is  quickly 
broken  by  the  dawning  of  a  most  perfect  day. 
But  I  must  insist,  and  with  emphasis,  that 
as  the  mortal  wings  his  way  to  the  immortal 
heights,  that  all  knowledge  acquired  and 
dispositions  cultivated  while  in  human  embod- 
iment, will  be,  yes,  must  be  borne  along  with 
him.  And  let  it  not  be  overlooked  by  any 
that  they  are  daily  winging  their  way  thither- 
ward. 

"When  man  is  ushered  into  this  bright 
world,  his  joy  is  transporting  for  at  last  there 
is  not  a  'glass  between'  to  prevent  his  very 
soul  from  mingling  with  the  '  SQU!  of  Things. ' 
O  ecstatic  rapture  and  joy  unspeakable  ! 
And,  here,  where  we  can  at  last  more  per- 
fectly understand,  looking  back  over  the  path 
of  mingled  sorrows,  troubles,  storms,  sun- 
shine, happiness  and  pleasure,  we  are  enabled 
to  truly  say  that '  God  is  Love. ' ' 

For  the  next  discourse,  the  text  was  chosen 
from  Matthew  22,  37.  "  Thou  shalt  love  the 


HIS    PUBLIC   WORK  285 

Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,"  but  the  sermon, 
delivered  with  most  impressive  earnestness 
and  sincerity,  and  replete  with  valuable 
thought  and  suggestion,  does  not  lend  itself 
to  reportorial  dissection.  A  meagre  extract 
would  misrepresent  the  noble  speaker.  • 

Of  Spiritualism,  he  once  said:  "Spiritual- 
ism is  a  religion,  or  it  is  nothing.  It  is  likewise 
a  science;  necessarily  a  philosophy,  because 
of  its  phenomena,  but  it  is  a  message  of  Truth 
to  the  souls  of  men,  and  Spiritualists  are 
recreant  to  their  high  trust  in  not  serving  it 
better  than  to  seek  fresh  tests  continually  of 
spirit  presence;  the'y  should  feed  the  spirit- 
ually hungry,  uplift  the  downcast,  enlighten 
the  ignorant  and  consecrate  their  energies 
to  place  Spiritualism  where  it  belongs  before 
the  world,  as  the  purest,  loftiest  religion  on 
the  globe,  for  it  is  of  God,  while  theology  is 
of  man.  It  is  an  outpouring  of  the  Spirit 
upon  humanity." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CLASS  WORK. 

1   When  a  great  man  dies, 

For  years  beyond  our  ken, 
The  light  he  leaves  behind  him  lies 
Upon  the  paths  of  men." 

— Anon. 

Thus  faithfully,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  has 
McCullough  endeavored  to  adapt  his  transla- 
tion 'of  Truth  to  the  immature  comprehension 
of  his  hearers,  but  he  has  occasionally  also, 
in  addition,  sanctioned  the  holding  of  small 
classes,  or  coteries  of  students  and  inquirers, 
that  thus  through  his  human  mouthpiece,  he 
might  come  in  closer  touch  with  individual 
needs,  or  answer  questions  that  were  puzzling 
the  minds  of  seekers  after  Truth. 

The  following  notes  were  taken  from  a 
class  convened  in  Brooklyn,  in  February, 
1898,  while  Mr.  Wiggin  was  held  in  complete 
entrancement,  a  large  charm  of  the  utterance 
always  consisting  in  the  beauteous  modulation 
of  the  voice,  the  touching  quality  of  its  tones 
of  tenderness,  strength,  and  the  high  ideal 
to  which  he  sought  to  lift  his  disciples,  a  force 
and  a  charm  which  no  report  can  ever  suggest. 

Being  once  requested  to  give  some  of  his 


286 


CLASS    WORK  287 

experiences  since  reaching  that  sphere  of 
consciousness  known  as  the  super-mundane 
world,  the  spirit  responded:  "I  do  not  know 
of  anything  in  the  days  that  are  gone  more 
unwelcome  to  me  than  to  be  compelled  to 
listen  for  a  half  hour  to  the  experience  of  any 
individual  in  whom  I  was  not  particularly 
interested.  I  think  it  is  frequently  better 
to  keep  our  experiences  to  enrich  our  own 
souls  with,  than  to  use  them  in  the  attempt 
to  enrich  the  life  of  another.  Therefore  I 
will  not  confine  myself  entirely  to  my  own 
experiences  here,  but  will  perhaps  relate 
features  of  spirit  life  as  I  observe  them. 

"  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  one  on  earth  who 
can  remember  the  day  he  was  born  into  the 
world  of  human  expression.  There  are  like- 
wise many  on  the  spiritual  side  of  life  who 
cannot  remember  the  day  of  their  birth  into 
this,  the- spirit  land. 

"  I  shuffled  off  the  '  mortal  coil '  very  much 
after  the  manner  of  many  men,  and  I  found 
myself  freed  from  many  things  thereby.  The 
first  thing  that  seemed  to  excite  thought- 
actfon  was  the  relief  from  burdens  I  had 
dropped,  for  I  left  behind  some  very  unpleas- 
ant features.  I  felt  otherwise  very  much  the 
same  as  I  did  in  earth  life. 

"  There  is  always  one  most  pleasant  feature 


288  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

in  passing  into  the  spirit  world.  It  is  a 
similar  experience  when  you  go  away  from 
your  earthly  homes  for  awhile  and  return: 
you  know  very  well  the  reception  awaiting 
you  which  is  likely  to  be  .one  continual 
ovation  and  a  source  of  deepest  pleasure  as 
you  meet  your  loved  ones.  This  is  a  feature 
of  the  pleasure  there  is  in  coming  into  the 
spirit  world.  Perhaps  this  is  the  best,  in  the 
consciousness  of  a  new-born  spirit. 

"  There  are  many  other  things,  friends, 
which  I  cannot  speak  of  because  you  can  know 
nothing  of  them  all,  until  you  have  tasted 
them  for  yourselves.  You  cannot  compre- 
hend them.  If  I  were  to  bring  you  from 
some  other  planet,  some  fruit  that  was  entirely 
unlike  anything  you  ever  saw  or  tasted  here, 
I  could  not  tell  you  by  any  process,  what  the 
fruit  was  like  until  you  had  tasted  it  your- 
selves, because  there  is  nothing  grown  on 
earth  with  which  I  could  compare  it.  This  is 
true  of  some  of  the  experiences  in  the  spirit 
world  which  I  could  not  elucidate  or  explain 
in  any  sense  that  you  could  comprehend;  it 
would  be  impossible. 

"The  degree  of  progress  any  person  has 
made  in  spiritual  development  decides  how 
much  he  can  appreciate  surrounding  condi- 
tions, when  born  into  the  spiritual  state  of 


CLASS    WORK  289 

consciousness.  Human  memory  of  a  certain 
kind  is  not  enduring,  while  there  is  another 
kind  that  is  everlasting.  You  retain  in  the 
spirit  world,  the  memory  of  that  which  has 
impressed  itself  on  your  spiritual  conscious- 
ness, while  yet  in  the  material  state.  A  con- 
tract is  often  made  between  two  friends,  that 
if  one  dies  and  he  finds  that  he  can  come  back, 
he  will  make  it  known,  a  certain  sign  being 
agreed  upon  by  which  he  can  be  recognized. 
Now  if  the  spiritual  consciousness  of  the 
deceased  grasped  the  contract  completely, 
he  will  be  able  to  fulfil  it,  because  he  will 
remember  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if  there  is 
only  physical  speech,  a  mental  contract, 
which  made  no  impression  upon  the  spiritual 
consciousness,  he  will  not  be  able  to  remember 
it  and  keep  the  agreement,  though  he  may 
often  return.  Many  spirits  who  remember 
the  names  by  which  they  were  known  in  earth 
life  are  not  able  to  give  them.  The  machinery 
of  communion  between  the  two  worlds  of 
consciousness  is  very  delicate,  not  easily 
comprehended.  Therefore  be  thankful  for 
what  you  do  get. 

"  Now,  possessing  a  spiritual  consciousness 
before  entering  the  spirit  world,  you  begin 
life  there  with  an  appreciation  of  its  realities 
and  its  beauties  in  all  departments,  at  once. 


290  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

If  your  physical  powers  have  not  been 
spiritually  employed,  if  the  spiritual  depart- 
ment of  your  mind  is  not  unfolded,  when  you 
enter  upon  your  career  in  the  spirit  world, 
you  will  understand  about  as  much  of  what 
you  see,  as  a  child  born  into  a  palace  would 
comprehend  of  wealth  and  luxury. 

"  Love  relations  are  always  retained,  that 
is,  if  your  love  has  been  a  power  in  your  life, 
and  not  a  mere  fancy.  Love  is  something 
very  deep  and  difficult  to  comprehend  in  its 
true  significance.  You  may  think  you  do; 
but  to  the  degree  you  love,  will  it  form  a  part 
of  the  beauty  of  the  spirit  world.  True  love 
is  experienced  nowhere  else  save  in  the 
spiritual  consciousness,  and  according  to  the 
manner  in  which  your  love  has  been  exercised 
here,  will  you  enter  into  the  enjoyment  of  that 
love 'over  there,  as  a  connecting  link  to  the 
love  you  have  left  behind,  in  love's  relations. 
The  love  extending  from  spirits  to  you  is  far 
in  excess  of  what  you  know  and  feel  as  love. 
Love  is  a  power  that  holds  dominion  —  one 
that  the  process  of  time  can  never  rust  or  dull. 

"  You  may  be  interested  to  know  what  we 
do  in  the  spirit  world,  and  here  let  me  say 
that  your  world  is  ours;  you  are  in  the  spirit 
world  this  minute,  although  it  is  not  con- 
sciously your  world  yet,  but  it  is  to  be  yours. 


CLASS   WORK  291 

When  will  you  mortals  get  the  idea  firmly 
established  in  your  minds  that  the  worlds  of 
which  I  am  speaking  are  only  related  or  dis- 
related  to  each  other  by  relative  degrees  of 
consciousness?  To  use  a  homely  illustration, 
the  dog  is  in  your  world  and  you  are  in  his, 
and  yet  the  dog  does  not  appreciate  many 
features  of  life  that  you  do.  And  why  not? 
Because  he  is  in  a  different  world  of  con- 
sciousness. He  knows  many  things  but  not 
all  that  you  know.  He  may  see  a  flower,  but 
you  recognize  in  that  flower  a  spiritual 
essence,  a  relation  of  yours.  You  might  call 
the  lily,  a  sister/and  not  be  far  from  truth. 

"So  we  are  employed  right  here  with  you; 
we  work,  not  with  our  hands  but  with  yours. 
The  reason  why  we  use  your  hands  no  better  • 
is  because  of  your  unwillingness  to  let  us;  but 
we  build  into  your  consciousness.  You  have 
not  projected  an  invention  from  the  earliest 
history  of  man;  you  have  not  corrected  one 
condition,  or  modified  one  imperfection  in 
your  mortal  life,  without  the  help  of  the  spirit 
world,  not  one  single  thing.  Now  you  may 
ask,,  have  you  builded  our  palace  cars  for  us  ? 
What  reason  have  you  as  spirits,  to  be 
interested  in  railroad  cars?  We  have  every 
reason  to  be  thus  interested.  What  did  you 
build  freight  cars  for  and  equip  them  with 


292  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

troughs  for  water  and  food,  then  refrigerator 
cars  to  transport  beef  after  it  is  killed? 
Because  you  saw  the  necessity  therefor,  or, 
rather,  the  spirit  world  saw  it  for  you,  and 
helped  you  to  build  them,  because  former 
methods  were  inhuman  and  cruel,  so  we 
started  humanitarian  ideas  in  your  minds. 
Then  we  made  you  see  the  necessity  for  better 
accommodations  for  you  human  animals. 
Many  people  who  live  only  for  pleasure  and 
comfort,  would  not  travel  at  all,  otherwise, 
and  by  tempting  them  to  cross  the  continent, 
and  coaxing  the  people  of  California  toward 
the  middle  West,  they  come  in  touch  with 
each  other,  and  thus  get  more  civilized. 
Civilization  is  the  great  educator,  and  travel 
is  the  great  civilizer;  it  enlarges  and  develops 
the  race.  By  and  by  you  will  not  touch  the 
earth  at  all  when  you  travel,  but  go  as  the 
spirit  goes  —  float,  if  not  fly. 

"  Mortals  think  the  world  grows  slowly,  but 
when  God  wants  a  text  he  preaches  - 
Patience.  When  Nature  puts  down  a  granite 
floor,  if  it  takes  a  million  years,  she  uses  that 
time;  she  never  hurries.  The  valuable  things 
of  life  must  take  time  to  accomplish.  A 
spirit  looks  upon  eternity  in  considering 
growth;  you,  upon  time.  It  is  necessary  that 
you  suffer  the  prick  of  disappointment,  the 


CLASS   WORK  293 

sharp  sword  of  injustice  and  sorrow.  Your 
loved  ones,  watching  near,  welcome  the 
visitation,  knowing  the  result.  Your  spirit 
friends  would  not  have  you  escape  it.  The 
grindstone  of  experience  is  always  employed 
to  brighten  the  diamond  of  capacity. 

"  Are  spirits  out  here  certain  of  immortality  ? 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  there  are  those  here 
who  have  no  realization  that  they  ever  lived 
in  the  mundane  sphere.  Their  spiritual  con- 
sciousness was  not  sufficiently  aroused  while 
here,  although  many  of  them  had  a  life 
expression  of  seventy-five  or  eighty  years. 
Others  have  very  little  remembrance,  as  if 
their  life  here  was  but  a  day,  so  little  of  their 
spiritual  consciousness  was  aroused.  There 
are  perhaps  one  hundred  people  in  this  room 
besides  yourselves,  of  whom »  you  are  not 
conscious.  We  have  spirits  here  who  vibrate 
to  the  thought  world  on  a  higher  plane.  I 
have  heard  from  spirits  in  the  third  sphere 
higher  than  the  one  I  am  in. 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  any  mortal  to 
fear  the  process  which  you  call  death.  If  you 
do  not  take  your  own  life,  or  it  is  not  taken 
from  you,  it  is  never  painful.  I  seemed  to  be 
borne  away  in  the  arms  of  friends,  and  felt 
the  arms  of  their  love  about  me,  for  love  in 
the  spirit  world  is  something  tangible.  The 


294  •  JO  H  N     McC  ULLO  UG H 

time  will  come  in  human  life  when  no  such 
thing  as  death  will  be  recognized.  It  may 
be  a  million  years  first,  it  may  be  five  thousand 
years.  It  all  depends  on  the  development 
of  your  spiritual  consciousness.  Death  is 
dreaded  simply  because  of  ignorance. 

"  The  spirit  world  bends  toward  you,  yearn- 
ing to  lift  you  into  a  higher  plane  of  vibration. 
It  calls  to  you,  '  Come  up,  come  up  higher, ' 
and  instead  of  making  effort  to  meet  these 
spirit  helpers  in  their  own  realm  of  conscious- 
ness, you  persistently  reply,  '  Come  down, 
come  down,  give  us  another  proof  that  you 
can  come  down,'  and  so  you  grovel  on  the 
material  plane  of  phenomena,  giving  small 
attention  to  growth  in  spiritual  realization, 
to  the  unfoldment  of  soul  possibilities. 

"  Lift  up  the  gates  of  your  spiritual  con- 
sciousness, and  be  ye  lifted  up  ye  everlasting 
doors,  and  let  the  spiritual  essence  of  Life 
flow  in." 

When  asked  by  a  student  how  to  develop 
psychometry,  the  spirit  teacher  replied: 

"  Many  deny  that  psychometry  is  anything 
more  than  spirit  influence  or  clairvoyance, 
but  it  is  a  true  science  of  soul  perception. 
The  brain  of  man  has  been  likened  to  a  sheet 
of  tinfoil,  a  sensitized  plate,  which  is  indented 


CLASS   WORK  295 

with  every  vibration  that  is  excited  by  the 
experience  of  life. 

"  Every  man  keeps  his  own  record.  The 
legend  of  the  recording  angel  has  not  been 
by  all,  well  understood.  The  angel  is  your- 
self. The  record  is  in  your  own  handwriting. 
You  cannot  erase  or  deny  its  verity,  or  the 
authenticity  of  the  author;  you  decide  your 
own  destiny.  This  record  is  not  kept  in 
secret;  it  is  a  public  document.  I  can  read 
it,  and,  through  the  study  of  psychometry, 
you  can  read  another's  record. 

"  Psychometry  can  be  developed  by  all  to 
some  extent,  for  it  is  soul  perception,  a  coming 
to  the  very  centre  and  core  of  things,  the 
most  beautiful  power  in  the  world  when 
understood,  and  consequently  appreciated. 
Its  highest  significance  is  that  it  prepares  the 
soul  of  the  mortal  while  inhabiting  the 
body,  to  come  into  proper  relation  with  the 
soul  of  things,  until  it  can  comprehend  the 
voice  of  the  excarnate  world. 

"  Spirits  cannot  speak  to  this  world,  because 
humanity  seeks  to  hear  their  voices  and  see 
their  faces  through  the  natural  channels  of 
sense  perception.  And  you  are  all  endowed 
with  the  powers  of  the  Infinite.  They  are 
yours.  Then  commence  to  develop  through 
soul  study,  your  relation  to  other  souls,  and 


296  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

to  the  Over  Soul.  Unfold  and  manifest  the 
powers  you  possess.  Think,  think,  think, 
you  cannot  think  too  much.  Strong  and 
mighty  is  the  man  or  woman  who  has  out- 
grown the  personality  of  ordinary  humanity 
into  the  birthright  of  immortal  consciousness. 

"  Your  soul  and  your  spirit  gain  expres- 
sion through  your  brain  and  physical  body. 
Thought  can  construct  a  temple,  can  build 
a  city  or  span  a  river  with  a  suspension 
bridge;  and  grander  than  this,  thought  can 
build  a  man.  Your  faces  and  forms  to-day 
are  the  result  of  your  thinking.  Psychometry 
goes  deeper  than  this,  and  enables  you  to 
understand  with  your  soul.  Then  strive  to 
gain  this  soul  perception.  There  is  a  differ- 
ence between  a  desire  to  become  something, 
and  a  determination  to  be  such.  Put  your 
whole  life  into  this  endeavor,  and  you  will 
come  into  soul  relations  with  life. 

"  Thought  transference  is  a  fact,  and  is  not 
debarred  by  distance.  I,  as  a  spirit,  can 
speak  with  any  spirit,  wherever  he  may  be, 
if  I  can  locate  him.  You  can  go  anywhere 
in  thought;  literally  and  actually  you  are 
there.  You  leave  an  impression  also  on  every- 
thing you  have  ever  touched.  You  never 
can,  altogether,  get  out  of  this  room,  because 
you  have  once  been  here.  Think  of  it; 


CLASS    WORK  297 

though  its  walls  crumble,  this  house,  as  the 
product  of  thought,  must  remain  throughout 
all  eternity.  There  is  something  in  the 
immortality  of  thought  which  time  can  never 
touch. 

"  This  idea  holds  the  key  to  the  answering 
of  sealed  letters,  and  to  '  ballot  tests. '  When 
you  write  the  name  of  some  friend,  you  cannot 
write  it,  unless  before  you  write  it,  and  during 
that  time,  you  are  thinking  of  that  person 
whose  name  you  write.  You  send  on  swift 
wings  a  telegraphic  message  of  welcome 
which  draws  that  friend  to  you.  You  are 
simply  carrying  *  out  the  scientific  truth  of 
mental  telegraphy.  See,  then,  how  important 
is  the  line  of  thought  in  which  you  indulge, 
and  the  kind  of  reception  you  provide  for 
your  spirit  friends,  and  for  mortals  as  well. 
You  are  sister  and  brother  each  to  the  other, 
although  by  choice  or  chance  you  gained 
expression  through  different  channels.  But, 
by  the  attraction  of  soul  reaching  out  to  soul; 
you  are  eventually  led  to  where  the  heavens 
open  and  the  revelations  of  truth  are  yours." 

In  response  to  a  query  as  to  how  to  develop 
automatic  writing,  this  was  given: 

"There  is  no  phase  of  mediumship  more 
pleasant  than  automatic  writing.  The  best 


298  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

way  to  develop  writing  is  this:  Sit  down  at 
your  table  with  pad  and  pencil,  place  yourself 
in  a  passive  mood,  then,  as  inspiration  comes 
to  your  mind,  write  out  your  thoughts.  Do 
not  destroy  the  writing,  however  simple. 
Sit  for  twenty  minutes.  Remember  that  an 
inspiration  comes  from  an  impresser;  you 
cannot  impress  yourself.  The  spirit  who 
impresses  you,  (while  you  smile  perhaps  at 
the  worthless  result),  is  getting  control  of  the 
arm.  Bye  and  bye,  you  will  feel  a  prickly 
sensation  at  the  wrist.  This  will  indicate 
the  attempt  of  the  spirit  to  cut  the  train  of 
thought  from  your  brain,  and  to  introduce, 
at  this  nerve  terminal,  his  or  her  own  thought. 
Physicians  of  fifty  years  ago  held  that  nerves 
only  served  to  convey  sensation;  now  they 
generally  admit  the  nerves  to  be  conveyers  of 
ideas  and  thoughts.  The  ability  of  a  spirit 
to  control,  depends  on  the  sensitiveness  of 
the  nerve  terminals  at  certain  points  of  your 
body.  Preserve  your  patience  and  passivity 
in  your  sittings.  Make  conditions  and  do 
not  let  conditions  make  you.  Never  aim  to 
draw  any  spirit  down  to  your  plane  of  develop- 
ment. Bring  your  spiritual  life  up  in  har- 
mony of  vibration  with  the  influences  above. 
"  But  remember  in  your  endeavors  to  unfold 
any  phase  of  mediumship,  that  it  does  not 


CLASS    WORK  299 

consist  merely  in  being  controlled  by  a  spirit 
but  it  is  the  co-operation  with  spirits  for  wise 
and  beneficent  purposes.  Mediumship  is  a 
beautiful  gate  leading  through  soul  unfold- 
ment  to  the  wisdom  of  the  spheres. 

"  Mediumship  has  never  been  recognized 
and  appreciated  by  the  world,  and  is  far  from 
being  universally  recognized  to-day.  There 
are  more  mediums,  however,  who  fail  to 
know  that  they  are  mediums,  than  those  who 
have  come  to  a  recognition  of  the  truth. 
The  great  majority  of  people  are  creatures  of 
five  senses,  and  more  or  less  slaves  to  custom; 
they  grow  small  instead  of  large,  because  of 
not  growing  in  the  right  direction.  Only  a 
few  steer  the  boat  of  their  lives  according  to 
the  right  course.  ,  There  is  only  one  right 
course,  that  which  spirituality  indicates. 

"  Mediumship  is  a  God-given  and  beautiful 
thing,  for  the  purpose  of  illuminating  this 
dark  world  and  uplifting  and  instructing 
humanity.  It  throws  a  flash  light  on  the 
so-called  future;  and  certainly  that  man  is 
best  qualified  to  act  who  walks  in  the  light  of 
the  Spirit  —  to  whom  spiritual  revealment  is 
indeed  a  lamp  unto  his  feet  and  a  light  to  his 
path." 

"  Clairvoyance  is  a  feature  of  the  perceptive 


300  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

organs  which  all  mediums  do  not  possess; 
and  all  spirits  are  not  clairvoyant.  I  am  not; 
therefore  I  cannot  see  your  physical  bodies. 
But  one  thing  I  did  not  know  when  on  earth. 
I  was  inspired  as  a  medium.  Forrest  was 
my  teacher,  and  when  he  went  out,  he 
remained  my  teacher.  The  elder  Booth  also 
inspired  my  acting,  though  I  held  the  people 
by  my  personal  magnetism.  But  it  all  seems 
so  far  away,  that  at  times  I  can  hardly  recall 
it,  in  this  life." 

To  a  student  who  felt  a  little  discontent 
with  her  meagre  life  and  limited  field  of  use- 
fulness, he  spoke  these  words  of  cheer. 

"  I  would  like  to  give  you  a  picture  of  a 
little  episode  that  occurred  in  my  past  life, 
that  may  give  you  a  little  encouragement, 
temporarily,  and  linger  as  'a  pleasant  thought 
for  a  long  time.  The  country  roads  of  old- 
fashioned  days  had  a  path  in  the  middle  for 
the  horse's  feet,  another  outside  for  the  cart- 
wheels, while  between  the  two  was  a  double 
row  of  green  turf.  I  remember  of  seeing 
springing  up  at  the  edge  of  the  green  grass,  a 
delicate  flower,  about  one  and  a  half  feet  high, 
not  quite  tall  enough  to  be  hit  by  the  axles 
and  just  far  enough  in  to  escape  the  tires  of 
the' wheels.  Well,  I  watched  that  little  flower, 


301 

and  although  countless  carts  passed  over  that 
road,  it  grew,  it  blossomed,  it  ripened  and 
shed  its  seeds,  fulfilling  its  purpose  and  mis- 
sion in  life  as  perfectly  as  if  it  had  a  thousand 
acres  to  grow  and  do  its  work  in.  I  often 
think  that  those  who  fail  to  make  the  most 
of  the  least  opportunity  they  have,  would  not 
improve  any  better  a  greater  opportunity. 
Resolve  to  achieve.  Greater  than  Niagara, 
yes,  greater  than  one  hundred  Niagaras  is  the 
power  of  the  will;  and  remember  that  patience 
is  the  law  of  true  growth. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

AS  MESSAGE  BEARER. 

"  They  are  not  dead!     They  have  but  passed 

Beyond  the  mists  that  blind  us  here 
Into  the  new  and  larger  life 
Of  that  serener  sphere. 

They  have  but  dropped  their  robe  of  clay 

To  put  their  shining  raiment  on; 
They  have  but  wandered  far  away — 

They  are  not  'lost'  or  'gone.' 

And  ever  near  us,  though  unseen, 
The  dear  immortal  spirits  tread — 

For  all  the  boundless  universe 
Is  life — there  are  no  dead!" 

-^•John  L.  McCreery. 

Phenomena  must  still  serve  as  proof  of  the 
continuity  of  life,  the  bed-rock  upon  which 
the  superstructure  of  a  spiritual  philosophy 
is  built.  Other-world  testimony  is  imperative 
as  sign  that  there  is  another  world  than  this, 
that  conscious  life  survives  death.  The  dove 
going  forth  over  the  waste  of  waters  must 
bring  back  the  olive  leaf  to  prove  that  a  world 
of  verdure  and  reality  exists.  The  voyager 
to  distant  islands  of  the  sea  returns  with  some 
products  of  the  new  soil.  The  ladder  at 
Jacob's  pillow,  upon  which  the  angels  ascended 
and  descended,  has  never  been  drawn  back 

302 


AS   MESSAGE   BEAKER  303 

into  heaven.  Every  human  gateway,  through 
which  intelligence  from  Beyond  is  trans- 
mitted, is  crowded  by  those  arisen  spirits  who 
yearn  to  reach  their  friends,  as  also  every 
other  soul  in  need. 

McCullough,  while  still  embodied,  did  not 
neglect  to  fathom  this  welcome  mystery. 
Whenever  his  imperative  engagements  would 
permit,  and  opportunity  offered,  he  used  to 
investigate  this  psychic  gateway  of  inter- 
change with  the  spirit  world,  although  little 
dreaming  then  that  it  would  ever  be  his  work 
to  provide  such^proof  of  immortality,  or  to 
meet  such  need.  Yet  how  faithfully  he  has 
performed  this  labor  of  love,  thousands  of 
grateful  hearts  can  testify. 

His  method  has  been  a  little  unusual  and 
unique,  for  while  in  private  interviews,  he  has 
conversed  naturally  as-  any  friend  would  with 
another,  offering  advice,  consolation,  or  en- 
couragement, according  to  individual  needs, 
his  public  work  in  this  field  has  been  accom- 
plished through  what  is  known  as  ballot  read- 
ing. Those  persons  in  the  audience  seeking 
a  message  from  the  unseen  realm,  write  the 
name  of  a  spirit  friend,  or  perhaps  some 
question,  on  a  piece  of  paper,  fold  it  securely, 
and  place  it  upon  a  table  devoted  to  this  pur- 
pose upon  the  platform,  or  in  the  basket 


304  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

placed  in  the  vestibule  to  receive  these  ballots. 

After  the  usual  Sunday  evening  services, 
and  a  brief  talk  by  the  pastor  upon  matters  of 
current  interest,  Mr.  Wiggin  seats  himself 
before  this  table,  blindfolded  (to  make  a  dark 
chamber  for  clearer  clairvoyance) ,  and  is  soon 
entranced,  .when  he  is  influenced  to  pick  up 
these  ballots  and  read  from  them  as  the  spirit 
directs,  passing  rapidly  from  one  to  another, 
often  one  hundred  names  and  proofs  of  spirit 
identity  being  given  during  the  hour,  all  of 
which  are  recognized  as  correct. 

As  illustrative  of  this  branch  of  phenomena, 
let  the  testimony  of  another  be  given.  Mr. 
Walter  Hubbell,  than  whom  no  more  strictly 
honest  and  conscientious  gentleman  exists, 
having  no  acquaintance  whatever  with  Mr. 
Wiggin,  learned  through  a  lady,  that  McCul- 
lough  was  wont  to  control  this  medium. 
Having  an  innate  horror  of  all  trickery  and 
fraud,  which  his  former  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  McCullough's  manner  and  person- 
ality might  easily  detect,  and  having  also  a 
wide  experience  in  investigating  psychic  phe- 
nomena, as  his  book,  "The  Great  Amherst 
Mystery,"  abundantly  proves,  he  at  once  set 
about  testing  the  genuineness  of  this  claim. 
The  result  shall  be  told  in  his  own  words: 


^5    MESSAGE    BEARER  305 

"  I  have  had  such  a  remarkable  experience 
to-night  that  I  hasten  to  write  it  out,  as  a 
matter  of  record,  while  it  is  still  fresh  in  my 
mind. 

"  Having  heard  that  the  Rev.  F.  A.  Wiggin, 
pastor  of  the  Spiritual  Temple,  would  close 
his  lectures  and  seances  in  Potter  Hall  to- 
night, until  September,  I  attended. 

"  It  having  been  stated  that  Mr.  Wiggin  is 
controlled  by  the  spirit  of  John  McCullough, 
the  tragedian,  whom  I  knew,  I  obtained  a 
piece  of  blue  paper  of  a  deep  and  uncommon 
shade  of  color,  not  easily  matched  or  dupli- 
cated, and  with  purple  ink  wrote  these  words 
upon  it:  '  John  McCullough,  do  you  remember 
this  ?  "  Does  no  one  speak  ?  I  am  defendant 
here  !"  ' 

"After  Mr.  Wiggin  had  given  a  number  of 
remarkable  messages  to  the  writers  of  letters 
placed  on  the  table,  he  stopped  for  a  moment, 
and  said: 

"  Friends,  I  wish  to  say  that  I,  the  spirit  of 
John  McCullough,  the  actor,  control  this  me- 
dium, and  that  some  person  in  this  audience 
has  written  some  words  I  often  spoke  upon 
the  stage  in  earth  life,  upon  a  piece  of  paper, 
asking  me  if  I  remember  them.  I  know  the 
person  who  asks  this  question  well,  and  he  has 
appeared  upon  the  stage  with  me.  The  words 


306  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

he  asks  about,  I  spoke  for  years  before  Appius 
Claudius,  in  the  Forum  Scene,  of  the  Fourth 
Act  of  "Virginius,"  after  my  return  from 
battle,  and  they  are:  "  Does  no  one  speak?  I 
am  defendant  here. ' '  The  paper  containing 
them  is  now  upon  that  table  and  I  have  not 
touched  it.' 

' '  I  replied  that  this  was  all  correct.  He  then 
addressed  me  and  said,  'And  you  have  been 
in  that  same  play?'  To  which  I  replied: '  Yes, 
but  not  with  you,  John,  with  another.'  And 
he  answered  or  rather  affirmed  my  statement, 
by  saying:  'Yes,  I  know  that.'  All  of  which 
is  the  truth,  I  having  appeared  with  him  in 
'  Coriolanus, ' '  Jack  Cade, '  and '  The  Gladiator, ' 
but  never  in  '  Virginius, '  appearing  afterward 
as  Appius  Claudius,  when  another  man 
enacted  Virginius,  after  John  had  passed 
away. 

"The  seance  then  proceeded,  letters  being 
answered  for  a  score  or  more  of  persons,  Mr. 
Wiggin  being  blindfolded  all  the  while,  as 
from  the  first,  with  a  black  silk  handkerchief. 

"  When  I  heard  him  remark  that  the  seance 
would  soon  close,  I  said:  'John,  may  I  ask  you 
a  question?'  He  replying  in  the  affirmative, 
I  asked  if  he  had  met  Edwin  Forrest  in  the 
spirit  world?  The  answer  was:  'Often.'  I 
then  asked  if  Forrest  was  now  happy?  He 


.45   MESSAGE    BEARER  307 

replied  that  no  man  knew  Forrest  better 
than  he  did  in  earth  life,  and  that  he  knew 
Forrest's  surrounding  conditions  made  him, 
while  on  the  earth  plane,  unhappy,  but  that 
now  he  was  with  people  who  understood  him 
and  that  he  was  contented. 

"  He  concluded  his  conversation  with  me 
by  remarking  that  there  were  but  few  tra- 
gedians on  the  stage,  owing  to  the  strange 
ideas  of  the  managers,  who  were  wrong  about 
it  all,  and  that  he  would  talk  with  me  again. 

"  I  shall  close  this  account  by  remarking 
that  instead  of  putting  the  piece  of  blue  paper 
upon  which  I  had  written  the  words  already 
mentioned,  into  the  large  basket  at  the  door, 
on  entering  the  hall,  I  kept  it  concealed  in 
my  inside  coat  pocket,  until  the  small  box 
for  collecting  coins  was  passed  in  front  of  me. 
I  placed  the  paper  in  the  box,  and  it  was 
carried  directly  to  the  platform,  consequently 
never  being  out  of  my  sight.  I  do  not  know 
Mr.  Wiggin  at  all,  and  did  not  know,  either 
personally  or  by  sight,  even  one  of  the  one 
thousand  intelligent  ladies  and  gentlemen 
composing  the  audience,  all  of  whom  can 
corroborate  this  statement  of  facts. 

"As  I  have  never  appeared  on  the  stage  of 
any  theatre  in  Boston,  I  am  sure  no  person  in 


308  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

that  audience  knew  or  recognized  me — except 
the  ghost  or  spirit  of  John  McCullough. 

"  I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Wiggin  was  once  a 
Baptist  minister,  before  he  became  a  '  medium ' 
and  hope  that  other  clergymen  may  profit  by 
his  example  so  that  their  congregations  may 
receive  the  proofs  of  immortality.  Since 
living  in  that  haunted  house  in  Amherst, 
Nova  Scotia,  in  1879,  I  have  not  been  present 
at  a  seance  so  convincing  as  this  one,  held  in 
Potter  Hall  to-night." 

Sunday,  10  P.M.        [Signed] 

May  29,  1904.  Walter  Hubbell. 

1038  Washington  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

As  soon  as  this  meeting  was  ended,  Mr. 
Hubbell  returned  to  his  home  and  immedi- 
ately, while  every  detail  of  the  evening  was 
fresh  in  his  mind,  he  wrote  the  above  state- 
ment, which  has  since  been  published  in  the 
New  York  Sun  of  June  4,  1904,  in  the  New 
York  Mirror  of  June  11,  in  the  Banner  of 
Light  of  June  25,  and  in  part,  in  the  Boston 
Evening  Traveler  of  June  8,  and  has  attracted 
wide  attention  all  over  the  world.  It  has 
brought  to  Mr.  Hubbell  a  flood  of  letters, 
showing  how  deep  is  the  hunger  which  exists 
everywhere  for  some  tangible  proof  of  the 
continuity  of  life.  It  is  the  earnest  wish  to 


AS    MESSAGE   BEARER  309 

i 

meet  such  sincere  yearning,  seconded  by  Mr. 
Hubbell's  suggestion,  after  receiving  the  above 
test,  which  has  led  to  the  inception  of  this 
volume,  if  indeed  other  incentive  were  needed 
than  the  desire  to  offer  tribute  to  one  so 
highly  esteemed  and  admired. 

A  prominent  minister  of  New  York  affirms 
that  he  is  constantly  in  receipt  of  letters  from 
lawyers,  doctors,  editors  and  brother  clergy- 
men, stating  that  they  would  give  all  they 
possess  to  be  assured  beyond  a  doubt  that 
conscious  life  survives  death. 

Could  there  be  any  sadder  commentary  on 
the  incapacity  of  a  cultured  intellect  alone 
to  discern  spiritual  truth,  or  to  realize  its  own 
spiritual  reality,  which  is  without  beginning 
or  ending,  deathless,  eternal? 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

REMINISCENCES. 

"  Why  shrink  from  Death  ?     In  ancient  days,  we  know 
The  slave  was  raised  to  freedom  by  a  blow: — 
Man's  prison  house,  not  man,  the  hand  of  Death 
lays  low." 

— Aubrey  De  Vere. 

Mediumship  is  not  a  solitary  phenomenon, 
as  the  methods  of  investigation  sometimes 
adopted  might  lead  one  to  suppose.  It  is  a 
universal  law,  the  innate  possibility  of  every 
human  being,  to  some  degree.  It  is  as  natural 
to  have  spiritual  sight  and  hearing,  as  to  use 
material  organs  for  physical  contact.  The 
soul's  sense  of  touch  should  be  equally  un- 
folded with  the  cruder  sensitiveness  of  bodily 
nerves.  This  is  legitimate  spiritual  unfold- 
ment  for  every  individual,  and  it  is  small 
credit  to  any  mortal  who  lacks  it,  that  he  has 
not  yet  entered  upon  this  birthright. 

But  the  ability  to  yield  up  one's  organism 
for  the  use  or  inspiration  of  another  intel- 
ligence, whether  by  complete  entrancement 
(a  form  of  mediumship  which  is  growing  far 
less  common  in  these  latter  days)  or  by 
harmonious  co-operation  in  the  conscious 
state,  is  a  gift,  differing  from  natural  clair- 


REMINISCENCES  311 

voyance,  clarp-audience,  or  clair-sentience, 
since  it  can  be  possessed  without  a  high 
spiritual  development  of  the  medium's  own 
being. 

Yet,  while  mediumship  does  not  depend 
upon  the  culture  of  the  instrument,  it  gains 
therefrom  strength  and  value.  The  nature 
and  temperament  of  the  medium  color  every 
message  transmitted  through  such  agency. 
Water  still  tastes  of  the  pipe  through  which 
it  runs.  While  one  not  understanding  this 
law,  and  observing  the  widely  different  types 
of  the  same  personality  manifesting  through 
diverse  channels,  under  one  given  name, 
might  cry,  "  Fraud  !  this  is  not  the  same  spirit 
I  talked  with  through  the  medium  I  met  last 
week,"  it  is  still  a  most  interesting  psychologi- 
cal study  to  watch  these  seeming  transfor- 
mations. 

Through  a  nature  of  an  affectionate  type, 
for  example,  a  friend  from  the  spirit  world, 
seeking  to  commune  with  a  mortal  on  this 
plane,  would  display  a  strong  love  element, 
indulge  perhaps  in  fond  expressions  found  in 
the  medium's  brain,  or  it  would  be  possible 
to  thus  more  naturally  express  his  own  past 
endearments,  which  the  same  personality 
would  find  it  quite  impossible  to  produce 
through  a  medium  of  cold,  stern  nature.  Yet 


312  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

it  is  the  same  affectionate  friend;  there  is  no 
deceit  involved.  In  the  latter  case  he  is 
trying  to  build  bricks  without  straw,  seeking 
to  give  expression  to  an  emotion  with  which 
this  human  battery  cannot  vibrate. 

The  same  difficulty  is  apparent  when  an 
advanced  philosophical  mind  strives  to  convey 
his  ripened  thought  through  an  illiterate 
instrument,  whose  own  limited  vocabulary 
restricts  the  spirit's  power  of  expression.  The 
world  indulges  in  much  merriment  when  a 
message  that  purports  to  come  from  Shakes- 
peare, for  example,  is  of  the  calibre  of  a  school 
boy.  Well,  it  is  barely  possible  that  Shakes- 
peare (himself  a  marvellous  medium)  might 
not,  when  uninspired  on  earth,  have  talked 
like  a  demi-god,  or  manifested  a  more  than 
ordinary  intelligence.  Therefore  it  would 
be  necessary  to  make  connection  with  the 
advanced  intelligences  who  inspired  or  con- 
trolled him,  rather  than  with  Shakespeare 
himself,  to  invoke  his  matchless  thought. 
And  spirits  now  passed  beyond  this  plane, 
have  to  commune,  if  at  all,  through  long- 
distance, celestial  connection  with  our  atmos- 
phere, or  third  dimension  of  consciousness,  or 
else  through  intermediary  agencies,  standing 
on  different  rounds  of  the  ladder  sloping 


REMINISCENCES  313 

heavenward,  which  transmission  also  inter- 
feres seriously  with  a  perfect  communion. 

'The  law  of  adaptability  is  a  very  subtle  but 
potent  one.  A  spirit  may  search  long  before 
rinding  an  instrument  attuned  to  his  touch, 
and  again  a  certain  versatility  of  tempera- 
ment (often  noticed  in  mortals  on  earth),  may 
enable  a  spirit  to  touch  with  equal  facility 
several  diverse  mediumistic  organisms, 
although  manifesting  through  each,  a  different 
side  of  his  nature,  according  to  the  capacity 
or  pitch  of  the  key  with  which  he  temporar- 
ily vibrates.  Very  grateful  is  the  returning 
spirit  for  any  open  gateway  through  which  it 
can  reach  this  plane  with  its  mission  of  love, 
fidelity  and  service. 

Therefore  while  the  noble  spirit  of  McCul- 
lough  has  accomplished  a  grand  work  for 
many  years  through  the  instrumentality  re- 
ferred to  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  a  service 
not  yet  completed,  let  us  hope,  for  other 
years  to  come,  the  writer  has  exchanged 
greetings  with  this  helpful  spirit-friend  on  the 
distant  Pacific  coast,  or  in  the  South,  wherever 
a  suitable  mouthpiece  was  found  for  his  use, 
and  in  this  way,  pleasant  conversations  have 
been  held,  the  ties  of  a  deathless  friendship 
have  been  forged.  For  it  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  a  controlling  spirit  is  ever  chained 
like  a  slave  to  any  medium,  a  state  of  bondage 


314  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

which  would  be  intolerable  in  any  sphere,  for 
freedom  is  the  vital  breath  of  a  spirit,  and 
surely  one  so  universal  in  his  love  and  interests 
as  McCullough  always  was,  as  a  mortal, 
would  still  desire  to  touch  many  notes  on  the 
vast  human  key-board,  and  thus  reach  more 
avenues  of  usefulness  than  one  slender  organ- 
ism could  furnish  the  requisite  endurance 
therefor.  And  he  is  always,  everywhere,  a 
most  welcome  guest. 

A  few  of  these  "reveries"  (as  he  sometimes 
called  them)  to  which  the  writer  has  listened, 
may  serve  to  show  the  genial,  guileless  nature 
of  this  lofty  soul,  more  than  can  public  work, 
where  perforce  his  own  personality  was  largely 
obliterated. 

On  one  occasion,  in  the  writer's  home,  the 
following  extract  seemed  especially  touching, 
coming  from  a  personality  who  for  so  many 
years  was  deprived  of  the  joys  of  home. 

"I  think,"  said  he,  "if  one  should  take  the 
dictionary  and  read  every  word,  there  is  no 
word  to  be  found  therein  that  signifies  any 
more,  or  appeals  to  the  individual  so  keenly, 
as  the  simple  word  —  Home.  It  is  the  word 
I  love.  It  is  so  sweet,  so  beautiful,  so  helpful 
and  it  is  in  the  home,  I  believe,  that  we  get 
our  best  inspiration.  Home  is  associated  with 
the  thought  of  purity  and  growth.  How  I 


REMINISCENCES  315 

love  the  home  and  the  things  that  are  made 
in  the  home,  even  the  cooking  of  home;  sucli 
a  simple  thing  as  that.  How  good  it  is  !  So 
many  times  I  have  thought  of  my  old  home 
and  during  the  years  of  my  greatest  successes 
and  triumphs,  the  wedge  of  home  would 
always  creep  in,  the  elements  and  hopes  and 
all  that  goes  with  home. 

"The  house  is  not  of  so  much  importance, 
for  its  hearthstone  and  its  fireplace  grow 
deeper  and  wider,  its  logs  are  greater  and 
draw  heat  more  intense.  But  I  see  a  picture 
in  the  fire  of  a  ragged  boy,  ambitious  to  reach 
out  and  grasp  the  world  and  hold  it;  but  the 
picture  comes  and  goes  so  rapidly.  .  .  I  love 
to  come  into  this  home  and  I  do  so  on  the 
material  plane.  I  enter  its  every  room.  I 
look  out  of  every  window.  I  know  every 
chair  and  picture,  and  I  like  it  all,  because  it 
is  home." 

On  another  evening,  when  McCullough  was, 
as  ever,  a  beloved  and  welcome  guest  in  this 
home,  his  presence  most  tangibly  sensed 
before  the  audible  word  was  spoken,  a  medium 
was  present,  a  young  man  possessed  of  varied 
powers,  as  healer,  inspirational  lecturer  and 
message  bearer,  with  a  character  of  strictest 
honor  and  integrity  --  Mr.  George  A.  Porter 
of  Boston, — who  became  entranced  under 


310  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

the  overshadowing  influence  of  the  inspiring 
visitor,  the  complete  change  in  manner,  in 
voice  and  presence  being  so  great  that  it 
seemed  as  if  his  own  personality  had  left  the 
room,  so  little  was  it  felt,  and  only  McCullough 
thought  and  spoke. 

While  talking  thus,  with  a  touching  pathos 
and  great  beauty  of  diction,  the  writer  placed 
in  his  hand  an  Oriental  silk  scarf  of  richest 
texture  and  soft  delicate  coloring,  which  had 
only  just  come  into  her  possession,  one  which 
the  great  tragedian  had  worn  many  times  in 
public,  wound  about  his  head  as  a  turban, 
when  playing  "Othello."  The  medium  had 
never  seen  it  nor  knew  of  its  existence,  but, 
at  once,  the  spirit  started  with  an  exclamation 
of  surprise,  smiled,  grasped  the  scarf  in  his 
hand  repeatedly,  and  then  gave  expression 
to  one  of  those  curious  similes  which  forms 
such  a  marked  feature  with  all  communicating 
spirits. 

"  If  you  had  been  for  many  years  in  a 
country,  where  you  never  saw  a  cow,  and  if 
your  boyhood  had  been  passed  in  the  pastures, 
or  in  a  little  cottage,  with  its  lean-to,  where 
cows  are  kept;  and  many  years  later,  you  had 
come  back  in  the  night  to  the  old  place,  not 
knowing  you  had  reached  it;  you  would  know, 
by  the  smell,  where  the  cows  were. 


REMINISCENCES  317 

"So"  (adding  with  an  amused  smile)  "  when 
I  hold  this,  it  is  like  smelling  those  cows  in 
the  night.  /  smell  the  cqw.  It  brings  back 
old  scenes  and  emotions  —  the  fire  and  light 
and  glitter  of  the  old  life  on  the  stage,  and 
the  more  I  hold  it,  the  clearer  grows  its  voice." 

Then  after  a  pause,  he  proceeded  more 
seriously  and  with  a  change  of  figure.  "  And 
now  that  last  night  in  Chicago  comes  back 
to  me.  It  is  connected,  in  association,  with 
the  downfall  of  the  wall.  Many  assaults  had 
been  made  upon  the  wall  and  it  withstood 
them,  but  at  last,  it  tottered  and  fell. 

"  If  you  were  to  see  a  beautiful  race  horse 
straining  every  nerve  to  pass  under  the  wire, 
amid  all  the  plaudits  of  the  grand  stand,  the 
music  of  the  band,  the  cheers  that  rent  the 
air,  and  then  suppose  the  horse  should  stumble 
and  fall  before  he  gets  to  the  wire,  while 
groans  and  agony  arose  from  the  multitude, 
you  could  form  a  picture  which  comes  to  me 
with  the  memory  of  this  I  hold.  It  seems 
closely  allied  to  the  stricken  race  horse, 
because  it  was  used  before  I  fell,  before  I 
passed  under  the  wire. 

"  How  the  memory  comes  back  to  me. 
I  may  not  see  clearly  from  the  spirit,  but  in 
my  heart  and  in  my  brain,  it  burns  with  a 
brightness  that  is  like  those  sacred  fires  of  the 


318  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

East,  which  never  cease  to  burn.  No  one 
knows  so  well  as  I  the  pain  of  that  last  effort, 
no  one  knows  the  agony  I  felt  when  I  first 
stumbled,  and  when  memory  played  tricks 
and  wrecked  me.  How  have  the  mighty 
fallen  !  It  might  well  teach  us  not  to  build 
houses  of  sand  on  earth.  It  teaches  us  to 
build  on  the  firm  basis  of  spirit.  The  real 
and  lasting  things  of  life  are  the  unseen.  This 
in  my  hand  represents  an  ornament  that  I 
often  used  in  my  starring  stands.  You  might 
label  it '  Finis. '  No  better  name  could  I  give 
it  than  Omega,  the  last — the  last  !" 

As  on  this  occasion,  the  present  volume 
was  already  begun,  the  spirit  friend,  later, 
made  reference  to  it: 

'  O  Fortune,  thou  art  indeed  a  fickle  god- 
dess. Thou  dost  smile  and  frown  even  as 
the  varying  moods  touch  the  breast  of  the 
vast  ocean,  and  from  its  still  sleep  doth  arouse 
and  lash  it  into  fury,  and  so  does  Dame 
Fortune.  She  pets  us  and  caresses  us,  or  she 
bans  and  strikes  us  with  adversity,  until  our 
lives  are  torn  with  bitterness  and  sorrow. 

' '  But  Fame  is  a  mistress  upon  whose  smiles 
we  live,  and  for  whose  favor  we  strive.  And 
Fame  and  Fortune,  me  thinks,  might  have 
been  soul- twins,  so  close  do  they  resemble; 
and  he  who  is  privileged  to  rest  under  the 


REMINISCENCES  319 

roseate  smile  of  Dame  Fortune  and  whom 
Mistress  Fame  deigns  to  notice,  indeed  is  he 
fortunate;  but  when  deserted  by  both,  and 
when  in  darkness  we  stand,  we  are  then 
moved  to  lift  our  eyes  heavenward.  And  the 
first  star  we  see  is  to  us  one  of  beauty.  You 
have  so  rightly  said  and  written  of  my  exper- 
iences, impressions  and  thoughts,  as  I  once 
stood  in  the  darkness,  when  opportunity 
seemed  to  bring  me  the  Shakespearian  vol- 
ume; that  was  the  smile  from  Fortune.  That 
book  was  the  first  star  I  saw,  and  when  I 
looked  there  were  other  stars,  and  as  my  eyes 
became  more  accustomed  to  the  firmament, 
I  saw  dimly  many,  many  stars,  and  many 
worlds.  Bye  and  bye  the  optic  nerve  of  my 
soul  consciousness,  relying  upon  the  retina 
of  my  endeavor,  brought  into  a  closer  range 
and  focus,  more  stars,  and  star  after  star 
unfolded  to  my  vision,  so  that  under  the 
divine  radiation  of  this  Shakespearian  star, 
my  soul  poured  forth  its  inward  springs  to 
an  outward  expression. 

"  But  now  I  want  to  tell  you  of  a  very  dear 
old  friend  who  stands  here  to-night,  one  whom, 
when  a  convenient  opportunity  comes  to  you, 
I  want  you  to  mould,  to  take  off  the  crust,  to 
help  beautify  and  illumine  his  soul-life,  as 


320  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

you  can,  or  one  who  truly  sees  the  soul  of 
Forrest.  He  stands  here  to-night,  so  close  to 
us,  and  I  can  never  forget  the  many  kind 
words,  the  help,  aid  and  loving  treatment 
I  received  from  him,  and  who  of  all  the  stars 
I  looked  for  and  found,  he  really  was  to  me 
a  planet,  a  world,  and  you  may  say  so  in  your 
book,  as  you  feel  to  portray  it.  Because  had 
it  not  been  for  him,  for  the  soul  that  must 
have  seen  my  heart,  and  who  by  his  knowl- 
edge and  strength,  in  the  midst  of  the 
thousand  things  that  held  his  mind,  he  still 
found  time  to  lift  and  help  me  up. 

"He  really  was  to  me  a  'golden  gate,'  a 
world  wherein  I  stood,  and  found  the  real 
elixir  and  courage  of  life.  Whatever  they 
may  say,  however  they  may  try  to  tear  to 
shreds  that  grand  and  noble  character,  writ- 
ten »on  my  heart  and  cherished  there  by  years 
of  love  and  service,  you  may  find  the  name  of 
Forrest,  and  as  I  hope  in  many  hearts  to  find 
the  name  of  McCullough,  I  know  in  the  realm 
of  time,  he  was  the  great  soldier  who  led  me 
out  on  the  field  of  service,  in  life's  first  great 
battles. 

"  I  could  not  give  him  too  much  credit, 
because,  unselfishly  and  most  generously,  did 
he  give  me  of  his  encouragement.  Like  a 
diamond  in  the  rough  and  crude  state,  it 


REMINISCENCES  321 

needed  but  the  fine  cutting  of  the  artist  to 
bring  its  facets  to  express  the  beauty  within, 
and  even  though  he  could  not  have  called 
into  being  faculties  that  did  not  exist  there,  he 
brought  out  some  of  the  diamond's  facets. 
He  could  not  have  done  it  had  it  not  been  that 
in  his  great  soul  blazed  the  jewel  of-  greatness. 
"  In  the  centuries  to  comet  his  name  will 
burn  with  greater  lustre-  and  brilliancy  than 
at  present;  and  some  day,  before  the  end  shall 
come,  I  am  going  to  lecture  on  Forrest." 

"  If  I  were  to  tell  you  of  my  life,  if  I  were 
to  cut  the  cord  that  holds  the  old  dirty  volume 
of  my  interior  thought,  I  wonder  what  thou 
wouldst  think  of  the  crumpled  and  well- 
thumbed  pages,  the  blots  of  ink,  the  marks 
of  soil,  the  ravages  of  time.  Deal  gently  with 
the  pages  that  are  gone;  and  shoufdst  thou 
find  some  marks  of  weakness,  blot  them  over 
lovingly  and  tenderly,  and  as  all  things  work 
out  their  divine  purpose,  so  must  these  blots. 
And  as  your  hand  may  move  over  the  manu- 
script, and  as  from  your  heart  your  words  may 
fall  as  the  dew,  you  will  see  and  hear  me  by 
your  side. 

"  But  have  you  not  dealt  too  lightly  with 
my  errors?  Could  you  not  learn  something 
about  McCullough  of  a  darker  hue  than  you 


322  JOHN     McC  ULLOUG II 

have  painted?  Be  not  too  quick  to  pass 
lightly  over  my  mistakes,  for  I  made  them 
and  suffered  for  them.  Deal  honestly,  justly, 
yet  gently  with  them  all. 

"  How  I  wish  this  child  of  yours,  this  book, 
might  send  forth  a  call  to  humanity,  so  that 
many  people  n^ay  thus  be  induced  to  seek 
where  the  silent  dead  now  tread." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

SPIRITUAL  REVERIES. 

"  Sweet  breaths  around  us  throb  and  beat, 

Sweet  helping  hands  are  stirred, 
And  palpitates  the  veil  between 
With  breathings  almost  heard." 

-  —  H.  B.  Stowe. 

These  hallowed  conversations,  which  have 
been  held  through  Mr.  Porter,  with  our  active 
friend  and  teacher,  who  is  always  eager  to 
open  the  door  of  communion,  have  been 
largely  of  a  personal  nature,  a  discussion  of  the 
interests  of  the  hour,  advice  on  knotty  prob- 
lems of  Life's  path,  suggestions  for  work,  but 
there  are  always  interspersed  through  these 
valuable  talks  of  a  private  nature,  extracts 
like  the  following:  • 

"  How  beautiful  is  Life  !  How  marvellously 
complicated,  how  delicately  poised  on  the 
needle  of  our  own  rude  existence,  and  yet 
again,  how  beautiful  !  What  a  great  mistake 
to  think  that  the  dead  are.  dead  !  The  dead 
are  living.  It  is  the  dead  who  are  truly  alive, 
and  one  must  die  to  really  live.  It  is  given  to 
the  dead  to  realize  life.  It  is  given  to  the 
natural  being  but  to  believe  in  life.  What  a 
mistake  it  is  to  think,  that  when  we  drop  this 

323 


324  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

mortal  mantle,  we  soar  to  lofty  heights, 
when  how  many,  many  fall  to  the  depths;  and 
it  is  in  climbing  up  those  steep  Alpine  heights, 
in  being  pricked  and  torn  by  a  thousand 
briars,  that  we  really  find  our  strength. 

"  I  am  working  hard,  very  hard,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  stop  working  till  I  have  all  my 
flock  together  in  one  pasture,  and  I  want 
your  help.  Be  brave,  be  sweet,  be  strong  and 
work  on.  Be  a  safe,  sure  and  strong  support 
that  no  storm  can  move,  no  anchor  can  drag. 

"The  pessimist  would  say  'we  live  to-day, 
to-morrow  we  die. '  I  say,  not  until  to-morrow 
do  we  truly  live.  This  life  is  the  beginning, 
the  next  is  the  real.  In  the  eternal  gardens 
we  pick  our  flowers.  Remember  the  word 
for  the  Now  is — hopefulness,  courage  !  We 
will  work  hand  in  hand,  as  more  than  com- 
rades, teachers,  work  for  the  good  wherever 
it  may  be. 

"  Healing  of  the  spirit  is  carried  on,  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic  of  Life.  Then  send  out 
your  waves  to  be  directed  as  God  will.  We 
will  all  move  on  to  some  good  work  for  our 
brothers  and  sisters,  to  the  betterment  of 
humanity." 

At  another  date,  he  expressed  himself  thus: 
"  I  have  looked  forward  to  to-night  with 


SPIRITUAL     REVERIES  325 

a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  for  many  reasons, 
chiefly  because  it  is  Christmas  week — a  time 
when  one's  memories  grasp  so  close  around 
our  heart-strings  and  bring  the  joy-bells  to 
chase  away  sorrow,  in  a  sweet  and  subdued 
way.  Christmas  week  !  How  well  I  remember 
Christmas  !  It  always  had  a  peculiar  signif- 
icance to  me.  I  never  forgot  it — never  could. 
I  always  was  at  my  best  near  Christmas. 
Something  always  appealed  to  me  more  at 
Christmas  than  at  any  other  time  of  the  year. 
"It  is  therefore  an  especial  blessing,  espe- 
cially helpful  to  me  that  I  am  permitted  to 
express  myself  in  this  home  so  near  Christmas. 
I  prize  this  open  door.  The  world  may  erect 
barriers,  but  nothing  can  separate  heart  from 
heart,  soul  from  soul,  spirit  from  spirit,  so  I 
am  here,  and  it  is  Christmas.  I  feel  strong, 
full  of  courage  and  I  shall  try  to  bless  all  whom 
I  love,  I  feel  so  close  to-night,  so  near,  so  real, 
as  if  I  had  never  gone.  I  cannot  realize  that 
I  have  passed  the  border  land.  I  feel  as  if  in 
the  body,  but  now  the  time  has  come  for  the 
curtain  to  descend.  I  must  resume  the  habil- 
iments I  left  in  the  spirit,  when  I  sought  to 
clothe  myself  with  this  form,  and  return  to 
stand  once  more  a  spirit.  Good  night." 


326  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

On  a  tempestuous  night,  his  first  words 
were: 

"  I  love  to  hear  the  wind  blow.  I  love  the 
rain  on  the  leaves,  it  soothes  me.  I  love  to  sit 
and  think;  I  love  to  be  here.  I  love  Art  so 
much,  not  the  artificial  but  the  real,  the  true, 
the  beautiful,  no  matter  how  simple. 

"  These  dreams  go  with  the  tide  of  inspira- 
tion, but  I  must  come  out  of  this  reverie. 
Whenever  I  come  here  I  seem  inclined  to 
think  —  think  aloud.  Somehow  old  memo- 
ries come  to  me  more  here  than  usual.  I 
cannot  believe  it  possible  that  I  am  in  spirit. 
I  feel  so  real  on  this  plane.  I  could  at  this 
moment  carry  out  the  old  parts,  that  were  so 
real  to  me.  How  I  used  to  feel  them  crowd 
over  me.  An  actor  is  one  who  can  sink  his 
personality  wholly  in  the  new  being  he  is 
portraying.  Bye  and  bye,  I  am  going  to  ask 
you  to  sit  and  let  me  express  some  of  my  own 
lines  and  characters  and  imagine  ourselves  in 
the  atmospheres  of  the  old  theatres  once 
more." 

"A  little  thought  conies  before  me.  I 
remember  the  loading  of  the  boats  at  New 
Orleans,  how  I  watched  the  happy  colored 
laborers,  so  careless  and  merry  at  their  toil. 
They  neither  knew  nor  cared  where  the  cargo 


SPIRITUAL    REVERIES      .  327 

was  going,  and  it  was  an  object  lesson  to  me  - 
to  us  all,  to  do  our  best,  to  put  on  and  load 
our  cargo  on  Life's  cfaft,  not  knowing  where 
it  will  drift,  but  working  our  best,  happily. 
There  is  something  in  the  interior  make-up 
of  the  colored  man,  which  the  white  man 
lacks.  He  is  a  great  philosopher,  lives  for 
to-day  and  not  for  to-morrow,  and  thus 
preserves  his  happy  individuality." 

His  opening  words  at  one  of  these  treasured 
interviews  were: 

"  Ah,  again  th.e  curtain  rises  and  we  step 
forth  before  the  audience.  Some  people's 
mission  is  before  the  scenes  and  some  behind 
the  scenes,  yet  each  in  its  own  part  is  of  the 
same  importance.  The  great  star  of  to-day 
is  forgotten  to-morrow.  The  world  is  ever 
seeking  a  new  light  and  the  fickle  public  hails 
with  great  enthusiasm  the  advent  of  the  new 
star. 

"  How  delusive  are  things !  We  think  we 
know,  when  we  are  but  forces,  and  as  we 
dream,  these  visions  and  pictures  of  the  past 
crowd  about  us.  They  are  but  dreams  when 
the  stern  realities  of  Life  confront  us  and  hold 
us,  when  from  the  horoscope  of  existence  we 
awake  to  the  value  of  Life.  Thus  Art  is  the 
make-shift  of  dreams.  We  come  to  our  own 


328  JOHN  McCULLOUGH 

real  self  and  see  ourselves  in  our  own  con- 
sciousness. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  have  ever  watched  the  sun 
rise,  the  daybreak,  when  your  soul  was  restless 
and  you  walked  the  chamber  floor,  and  looked 
at  the  world  over  the  coming  of  the  dawn?" 
(Here,  assuming  such  dramatic  attitude  and 
gesture  that  the  scene  he  described  was 
almost  visible)  he  continued,  "And  did  you 
notice  the  trees  just  dimly  outlined  to  your 
eyes  —  the  branches,  the  twigs,  that  wave 
and  wave,  the  bush,  the  gravel  path,  per- 
haps the  fence,  slowly  coming  to  your  vision; 
the  scene  ever  changing,  each  moment,  each 
separate  space  bringing  a  different  vision  — 
never  the  same  ?  Now,  yonder,  conies  a 
distant  gleam  and  through  the  darkness  and 
the  shadow,  we  watch  the  sun  rise,  which  bids 
the  unlovely  phantom  of  the  night '  begone  ! ' 

"  The  beauteous  sunlight  changes  the  vision, 
the  rose  glows  with  power,  as  the  sun  bids  it 
a  sweet  '  good  morning. '  The  dim  phantoms 
are  gone  like  the  mists  and  fogs;  and  the 
vision  from  our  chamber  window  is  beautiful 
and  inspiring.  We  see  things  as  they  are. 

"  So  it  is  with  mortals,  who  walk  their 
chamber  floor  and  watch  for  the  coming  day. 
The  vision  will  change,  the  phantoms  which 
hold  the  heart  in  chains  and  bondage,  will 


SPIRITUAL     REVERIES  329 

disappear.  The  New  Day  will  come,  just  as 
it  always  does;  yet  the  old  habits  are  so 
strong.  Oh  how  they  come  to  us  !  How  we 
put  them  on  !  It  is  so  natural  to  pick  up  our 
own. 

"  But  just  as  we  *  have  thus  stood  in  the 
silence  of  the  morn  and  watched  the  pale 
glimmer  of  the  advancing  sun,  the  upstream- 
ing  of  the  light,  dyeing  the  morning  sky,  with 
just  a  gentle,  sweet  promise  of  daylight,  so 
inspiration  dawns  on  the  soul's  horizon.  It 
comes  in  the  night  as  the  morning  dawns  and 
opens  a  wider  gateway  of  light  than  we 
dream. 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  give  you  any  finely 
finished  address,  but  I  am  going  to  speak  just 
as  the  fountain  does,  throwing  up  and  out  its 
water,  and  letting  itvfall  where  it  may.  The 
passing  pedestrian  may  stop  and  drink  thereat 
and  pass  by,  and  so  perhaps  from  the  fountain 
of  inspiration,  some  of  my  thought  will  serve 
the  same  purpose.  I  know  not  what  way- 
farer in  Life's  highway  may  feel  to  stand  and 
quench  his  thirst  thereat. 

"We  are  all  but  children,  acting  out  an 
Infinite  Law.  If  I  have  cast  off  the  form,  I 
hold  the  power  to  return  in  spirit,  to  perhaps 
write  a  poem  or  a  symphony,  in  some  life. 


330  JOHN    McCULLQUGH 

You  know  as  well  as  I  that  the  decrees  of  the 
Great  Spirit  are  worked  out  by  lesser  lights, 
by  bands  of  spirits.  And  one  can  rely  on  me 
as  upon  the  sun  shining,  rely  on  my  loyalty, 
love  and  devotion.  I  strive  for  that  which 
is  right,  honorable  and  loyal  to  principle. 

"  I  am  not  a  great  student  of  the  future.  It 
is  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  me  as  to  you,  but 
I  know  there  is  One  greater  than*  I  that  sways 
and  ordains  the  direction  of  all  this  universe, 
and  all  that  transpires  on  this  plane  of  Life. 

"  We  are  all  coming  on  through  the  one 
gateway  —  Experience;  and  experience  leads 
to  sorrow,  but  it  is  always  softened,  dis- 
integrated and  refined  by  the  greatest  gift 
God  ever  gave  to  humanity  —  Love  !  Greater 
than  man,  greater  than  earth  is  the  rosary  of 
Love  !  Its  tender  memories  cling  around  our 
necks,  just  like  infant  hands,  that  will  not  let 
us  go. 

"  I  remember  in  my  boyhood  how  I  longed 
«for  love.  And  now  it  comes  to  me  to  tell  you 
that  when  I  went  back  to  the  old  home,  I 
visited  my  mother's  grave,  and  I  recall  a 
thought  I  had  then.  There  is  a  small  stone 
which  marks  the  spot  and  I  remember  so 
clearly  what  my  thought  was.  Shall  I  have 
a  larger,  more  prominent  and  expensive  stone 
erected  here?  I  had  enough  money  then  to 


SPIRITUAL     REVERIES  331 

buy  any  kind  of  a  monument;  and  then  I 
thought,  in  my  broader  views  and  realization 
of  life,  'What's  the  difference?  How  much 
better  to  spend  the  money  for  needy  ones  on 
this  plane.  It  is  more  appropriate  to  have 
a  simple  stone  for  a  simple  woman  who  led  a 
simple  life',  and  so  I  left  it  there. 

"I  don't  believe  I  was  ever  unduly  proud 
or  elated  over  my  success,  but  there  was  a 
great  calm  entered  my  heart  as  I  stood  there. 
I  reviewed  that  life  of  my  boyhood  and  the 
present  position  and  material  growth,  and  I 
felt  from  that  moment,  a  warmer  affection  for 
the  past  springing  up  in  my  heart.  I  loved 
my  mother  dearer  from  that  hour  than  ever 
before. 

"  Men  have  searched  far  and  wide  for  the 
kingdom  wherein  is  found  the  fountain  of 
eternal  youth.  It  is  only  found  in  the  king- 
dom of  love.  When  we  enter  the  domain  of 
love,  we  wear  a  fadeless  crown.  We  care  not 
for  mid-day  suns  or  the  midnight  stars;  we 
have  transformed  all  death  into  life. 

"  The  man  who  scoffs  at  love  is  a  spiritual 
cripple  and  a  dwarf;  he  has  curvature  in  his 
moral  life.  For  him  who  loves  truly  and 
well,  life  and  love  go  hand  in  hand.  Such  a 
one  rules  his  own  being.  Love  turns  night 


332  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

into  day.  In  the  darkest  moment  of  life,  in 
the  loneliest  desert,  the  star  of  love  sheds  its 
perpetual  light,  and  feeds  the  soul's  deepest 
longings.  It  is  all  that  makes  life  worth 
living.  Then  press  toward  it,  0  mortals, 
expect  it,  reach  out  your  souls  to  this  angel 
messenger.  It  will  be  found  in  every  dell  or 
valley,  await  you  on  every  mountain-top,  it 
broods  in  palace  or  hut,  as  one  sweet  uplifting 
impulse  from  a  pure  heart,  the  expression  of 
the  soul.  For  there  are  three  kinds  of  love, 
the  animal  love,  the  spiritual  love  and  the 
soul  love. 

"  Love  is  the  power  that  inspires  us,  the 
force  which  sustains  us,  the  song  that  har- 
monizes all  discords.  It  gives  us  the  strength 
of  a  legion  of  men.  Love  has  no  boundaries, 
no  limitations.  It  is  as  vast  as  the  Over  Soul, 
the  Under  Soul,  the  Great  surrounding,  and 
encircling  Soul  of  all  the  universe.  When 
man  has  dwelt  in  the  perpetual  hell  of  his 
own  selfishness,  only  the  star  of  love  can 
usher  in  the  glimmer  of  the  day's  full  dawn. 
In  every  life  eventually,  this  glorious  day 
must  dawn,  the  sun  will  arise.  It  is  God's 
promise,  aye,  God's  fulfilment  to  man.  On 
this  plateau  of  Divine  Love,  we  find  eternal 
life.  The  Fountain  of  Youth  is  right  within 


SPIRITUAL    REVERIES  333 

our   own  bosoms.     Love  is  the  true  patent 
of  nobility. 

"  Death  is  not  the  worst  messenger  to  man. 
Life  is  the  more  grievous  burden.  '  O  Death, 
where  is  thy  sting?'  For  harder  often  than 
the  sting  of  death,  is  the  perpetuation  of  life. 
But  love  heals  all  wounds.  He  who  purely, 
generously  loves  belongs  to  the  royal  family, 
and  is  heir-apparent  to  an  eternal  throne." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

PERSONAL. 

John  McCullough. 

"  Art  thou  not  living  in  that  lofty  land 
Where  life  means  radiance  more  supremely  fair 
Than  highest  human  deeds  may  ever  wear 
Or  pitiable  mortals  understand? 
May  not  new  griefs  and  joys,  at  thy  command, 
(Though  rather  joy  than  grief)  find  music  rare 
In  thy  rich  voice,  grown  richer  in  the  air 
Whereby  the  flowers  of  Paradise  are  fanned? 
We  do  not  know;  and  darkly  do  we  guess 
What  deeper,  dearer  work  is  there  achieved, 
When  the  soul  blooms  anew  all  undefiled. 
But  here  thy  loved  ones  mourn  for  thee  not  less 
Than  Damon  for  his  Pythias  might  have  grieved, 
Or  wept  the  Roman  father  o'er  his  child." 

— A.  E.  Lancaster. 
From  N.  Y.  Mirror,  Nov.  9,  1885. 

If  the  writer  might  be  pardoned  a  seeming 
breach  of  personal  modesty,  in  order  to 
strengthen  proof,  if  such  testimony  were  neces- 
sary, of  the  identity  of  the  spirit  of  McCul- 
lough, additional  data  could  be  given,  show- 
ing how  warm  is  his  interest  in  this  volume 
and  desire  for  its  publication. 

The  writer's  acquaintance  with  her  hero 
has  been  formed  and  ripened  wholly  on  the 
spirit  side  of  life  and  plane  of  consciousness, 
never  having  met  him  when  in  the  form,  but 

334 


PERSONAL  335 

her  devoted  love  and  gratitude  to  this  helpful 
friend  increases  with  the  passing  years.  She 
has  willingly  incurred  the  possible  criticism 
that  her  present  work  is  a  patchwork  of 
quotations,  that  others  thus  might  paint 
his  worth,  rather  than  have  her  portraiture 
regarded  as  colored  by  her  own  partiality, 
feeling  also  that  one  single  pen  is  inadequate 
to  do  justice  to  this  regal  soul,  and  therefore 
welcoming  the  unstinted  praise  of  those  who 
knew  him  well. 

Consequently,  when  the  suggestion  of  this 
volume  was  first  received,  realizing  her  great 
incapacity  to  worthily  portray  even  the  mortal 
career  of  such  a  matchless  personality,  she 
recoiled  in  dismay,  protesting  the  impossi- 
bility of  the  task,  dismissing  it  entirely  from 
further  consideration.  But,  like  Banquo's 
ghost,  it  would  not  down.  Even  in  sleep, 
detatched  sentences  of  the  proposed  book, 
divisions  of  chapters,  trooped  in  procession 
through  the  mind,  McCullough  himself,  by 
abundant,  frequent  promptings  and  encour- 
agements, not  allowing  the  idea  to  sink  into 
oblivion,  and  this,  evidently,  from  no  desire 
for  personal  prominence  or  adulation,  but 
because  his  present  life  and  work  as  a  spirit 
would  make  it  possible  to  prove  to  the  world 
the  continuity  of  life,  in  a  unique  and  feasible 


336  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

way,  and  as  he  has  since  said:  "  Help  human- 
ity to  seek  where  the  silent  (?)  dead  now 
tread." 

There  is  a  little  lady,  living  at  Revere, 
Mass.,  Mrs.  Annie  J.  C.  Morris,  a  poet  and 
psychic,  who  possesses  remarkable  clair-audi- 
ence  at  all  times,  in  her  normal  state,  and 
who,  in  her  quiet,  retired  life,  is  often  used  as 
a  receiver  of  messages  for  her  friends,  who 
are  perhaps  themselves  too  active  in  the 
tumult  and  whirl  of  life's  duties,  to  catch 
the  call  from  the  Central  Office  of  Spirit,  and 
to  this  friend  the  writer  sent  a  brief  note: 

"  It  has  been  suggested  that  I  write  some- 
thing about  McCullough.  What  do  you  and 
he  say  about  it?" 

In  reply,  she  had  written:  "No,  no,  you 
ought  not  to  undertake  it,  though  I  doubt 
not  he  would  appreciate  it,"  when  the  familiar 
voice  by  her  side  was  clearly  heard,  giving 
this  message: 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes.  It  will  be  a  far  more  endur- 
ing monument  than  any  carved  in  stone,  but 
tell  her  to  deal  lightly  with  facts,  and  omit 
much  theory.  Make  it  rather  a  joyous  testi- 
mony of  the  good  I  would  do  in  the  world,  and 
to  my  nearest  friends,  it  shall  be  as  my  voice 
speaking  across  the  silences,  like  my  hand- 
clasp across  all  space." 


PERSONAL  337 

Frequently  this  same  voice  tells  the  lady 
what  her  friend  is  doing  when  far  distant, 
what  people  she  meets  and  what  they  say, 
with  any  cause  in  her  work  for  rejoicing, 
showing  thus  in  what  constant  touch  are  these 
angels  of  light  with  our  mortal  interests. 

To  this  same  gateway,  appeal  was  made 
regarding  the  accident  referred  to  in  the  fore- 
going pages,  of  the  blow  from  the  curtain 
roller,  and  the  query  made  if  it  had  any  con- 
nection with  his  early  decline.  He  replied: 

"  Tell  her  I  hate  to  talk  about  my  head,  but 
there  was  a  blood-clot,  doesn't  she  know  that? 
The  blow  was  a  little  to  the  right  side  of  the 
top  of  my  head,  and  it  always  felt  thereafter 
as  if  something  were  dented  in,  that  is,  when 
I  thought  of  it  particularly.  At  times,  there 
was  a  tight  feeling  there,  then  that  clot  formed 
very  slowly.  But  there  were  other  things  that 
contributed  to  the  final  collapse — other  press- 
ures. It  was  at  last  as  if  some  one  were 
pressing  iron  bars  down  over  my  head.  It  was 
awful  !  awful  !  I  was  so  glad  when  I  died, 
as  you  call  it;  awoke,  as  I  felt  it.  The  bars 
were  taken  down  and  the  light  flooded  in 
once  more." 

A  little  later,  alluding  to  his  condition 
through  Mr.  Porter's  organism,  he  said:  "I 


338  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

want  to  entirely  dispute  anybody  who  says 
I  raved,  or  suffered  acutely,  because  I  did 
not.  It  is  false.  My  passing  out  was  beauti- 
ful. I  remember  it  as  distinctly  as  if  it  were 
a  moment  ago.  I  fell  asleep  like  a  child.  I  am 
certain  of  what  happened  to  myself  whatever 
others  may  have  said.  I  know  because  it  was 
I.  I  was  happy.  It  seemed  as  if  all  things 
had  culminated  that  last  forty-eight  hours 
of  my  life,  and  I  realized  that  all  things  which 
.had  seemed  so  great,  were  really  so  little,  and 
it  made  me  feel  like  a  boy  again.  One  very 
distinct  thought  that  came  to  me  was  this— 
I  had  heard  that  people  who  were  drowning 
often  saw  their  whole  lives  pass  in  panoramic 
review.  I  wondered  if  it  would  be  so  with 
me.  But  in  my  passing  out,  very  little  of  the 
life  of  the  stage  was  there,  but  a  little  of  my 
earlier  life,  my  childhood,  the  old  home  and 
home  conditions  came  over  me  and  seemed 
better  than  ever.  The  pain  left  me  before 
passing  out,  and  I  was  happy.  I  went  to  sleep 
and  it  was  like  a  dream. 

"  In  regard  to  my  brain,  I  met  a  very  help- 
ful friend  in  spirit  life  who  was  a  doctor,  and 
we  had  some  long  and  serious  talks  over  my 
condition,  and  to  state  it  in  a  nut-shell,  he 
thought  that  my  strenuous  life,  my  portraying 
such  intense  emotions  and  so  many  varied 


PERSONAL  339 

characters,  exhausted  the  brain,  and  this  is 
true.  There  is  no  necessity  for  me  to  say 
anything  further,  only  I  did  not  die  from 
error  or  dissipation.  That  accusation  is  false. 
We  all  have  friends  and  enemies,  and  our 
enemies  we  should  love  the  best.  I  sometimes 
think  I  had  more  than  I  knew,  but  I  feel- 
again,  that  though  I  made  mistakes,  how 
strong  was  my  desire  to  help  people.  I  never 
was  the  liar  or  deceiver,  never  the  man  to 
willfully  break  hearts  or  wreck  homes;  I  was 
like  a  child  struggling  for  the  light.  I  see 
it  now." 

Memory  recalls  in  this  connection,  an  episode 
that  occurred  at  a  Sunday  evening  service, 
in  Brooklyn,  in  1899,  when,  as  Mr.  Wiggin  sat 
entranced,  waiting  for  the  soloist  to  finish  her 
selection,  which  happened  to  be  that  minor- 
keyed  song,  "  Flee  as  a  Bird  to  Your  Moun- 
tain," it  was  noticed  that  the  controlling 
spirit  listened  to  the  music  with  unusual 
pleasure  and  eagerness,  and  at  its  close,  he 
said: 

"That  tune  was  the  selection  played  by 
the  band  when  my  funeral  procession  entered 
the  gates  of  the  cemetery,  and  oh,  it  did  sound 
so  beautiful  floating  up  among  the  tree 
branches,  and  1  was  there,  walking  right 


340  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

beside  the  musicians — so  happy  and  free." 
If  the  vast  concourse  of  mourners  on  that 
occasion,  so  depressed  with  their  loss,  could 
have  known  and  felt  the  joy  of  their  friend 
in  his  freedom  from  the  "  awful  pressure, ' ' 
and  in  the  "light  that  poured  in,"  their  weep- 
ing would  have  been  changed  to  rejoicing,  as 
it  should  be  at  every  gateway  of  immortal 
birth. 

A  few  days  after  the  writer's  last  visit  to 
Mount  Moriah,  while  in  a  city  a  thousand 
miles  westward  of  Philadelphia,  McCullough, 
through  another's  lips,  to  the  writer's  great 
surprise,  made  touching  reference  to  it: 

"One  thing  I  want  to  tell  you,  that  when 
you  visited  my  monument  I  was  there,  and 
stood  beside  you.  I  saw  just  what  you  did. 
I  watched  you  as  you  so  tenderly,  lovingly 
touched  it.  I  saw  you  standing  in  front  of  it, 
looking  up  at  my  sculptured  face.  I  heard 
all  you  said,  and  saw  all  you  did.  I  say  this 
so  you  can  be  sure  of  my  presence.  And  how 
beautiful  it  all  was  !  I  could  hardly  keep 
back  the  tears,  so  many  tender  memories 
swept  over  me.  Yet  most  people  say  I  am 
dead.  Poor  misguided  children  !  They  have 
not  yet  entered  into  the  kindergarten  of  spirit. 
My  dear  old  friends  !  Bless  them  everywhere  ! 


PERSONAL  341 

My  love  for  them  is  like  a  beacon  light ;  never 
false,  always  true.  But  it  is  those  souls  who 
are  immersed  in  the  materiality  of  commercial 
life  who  are  the  dead.  I  am  alive,  healed,  well 
and  strong.  There  are  those  who  think  to- 
night, that  I  am  in  some  indefinite  future,  or 
some  far  of!  distant  sphere,  when  I  am  right 
here,  walking  with  them,  touching  them  and 
feeling  them,  trying  to  brighten,  cheer  and 
comfort  them  in  any  hour  of  trial,  sharing 
their  emotions  and  interests.  Indeed,  I  may 
have  been  dead,  but  certainly  now,  I  am 
spiritually  and  soulfully — alive!" 

Again,  through  Mr.  Porter's  agency,  he 
indulged  in  reverie  regarding  his  past  life, 
asking: 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  always  helped  the 
needy,  why  I  loved  to,  why  I  never  could  pass 
them  by?  Because  I  recognized  that  I  had 
been  there  myself.  I  remember  how  the  boot- 
blacks and  newsboys  interested  me,  and  I 
wondered  what  they  would  make.  It  seemed 
in  helping  them,  that  I  was  helping  that  poor 
little  boy  of  the  past,  who  roamed  in  the  woods 
with  nothing  but  his  day-dreams  and  his 
fancies.  And  I  never  grew  old.  I  never 
shall. 

"  I  can  see  now  in  looking  back,  that  I  was 


342  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

influenced  by  the  spirit  more  than  I  dreamed. 
Away  back  in  my  childhood,  I  always  knew 
that  I  should  some  day  cross  the  ocean,  and 
dim  suggestions  of  my  future  career  used  to 
steal  over  me.  My  air-castles  and  dreams 
were  a  constant  help  and  comfort  to  me  and 
lifted  me  out  of  my  dull  life.  They  were  the 
prompting  of  the  spirit." 

Again  referring  to  this  volume,  then  ap- 
proaching completion: 

"Your  book,  my  dear  child,  is  like  a  sus- 
pension bridge,  one  of  those  bridges  of  rugged 
strength  and  beauty,  whose  steel  girders  and 
spans  carry  safely  over  the  many  thousands 
of  souls  who  trust  themselves  to  its  support. 
So  is  your  book  a  suspension  bridge,  and  I  feel 
that  to  the  truth  of  its  message  %  thousands 
will  trust  their  lives.  It  will  open  the  chasm  of 
the  unknown;  it  will  lift  the  weight  of  despair 
from  many  hearts  and  set  them  to  thinking. 
May  it  have  a  glorious  mission  for  those  who 
need  it.  Many  beautiful,  beautiful  thoughts 
well  up  from  my  heart  that  are  inspired  by 
your  devotion  to  me  and  to  the  truths  of  the 
Spirit.  My  heart  is  so  full  when  I  think  of 
what  I  would  like  to  do  for  Truth,  and  for  the 
world,  and  that  I  am  debarred  from  doing 
much  of  it. 


PERSONAL  343 

"  But,  in  the  vast  vocabulary  of  material 
and  spiritual  language,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  find 
among  them  all,  one  to  tell  you  how  grateful 
I  am  that  you  should  undertake  this  weari- 
some task,  a  work  of  such  patience,  wherein 
the  delicate  touch  of  the  artist  is  far  greater 
in  its  work  than  is  his  who  puts  the  oil  to 
canvas.  Greater  is  one  who  touches  the 
brush  to  the  human  soul,  and  portrays  it  to 
humanity,  who  paints  a  portrait  for  the  gal- 
lery of  the  world,  for  none  can  ever  erase  that 
impression,  as  one  can  change  the  canvas;  and 
if  this  work  bring  to  you,  dear  child,  one 
millionth  part  of  the  joy  and  happiness  it  has 
already  brought  to  me,  it  will  indeed  give  you 
a  rich  reward.  I  thank  you  more  than  I  can 
say." 

"As  we  walk  and  struggle  along  the  high- 
way of  life's  endeavor,  it  is  gratifying  to  find 
the  bright  glimmer  of  some  light  on  our  path, 
to  see  one  star,  strong  and  radiant  with  Love's 
expression,  a  star  burning  in  some  trusty 
heart  to  lighten  our  pilgrimage.  And  I  have 
been  so  happy  in  the  thought  that  there  was 
some  one  on  this  earth  plane  so  loyal  and 
loving  to  me,  that  they  could  ever  dream  of 
undertaking  such  a  thankless  task.  But,  my 
friend,  you  have  painted  me  with  such  radiant, 


341  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

beautiful  colors  that  I  sometimes  wonder  if 
it  is  myself  you  mean." 

He  then  requested  that  a  full-length  picture 
of  Virginius  might  be  used  as  a  frontispiece. 

Again,  several  different  titles  for  this  volume 
were  submitted  to  him  for  his  selection.  He 
listened  in  silence,  and  then  chose  the  one 
it  bears. 

"  I  like  it  best,  but  make  the  story  simple, 
rugged,  sweet." 

May  this  imperfect  recital  indeed  seem  to 
all  who  loved  him  like  his  "  voice  speaking 
across  the  silences,  like  his  hand-clasp  across 
all  space." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  STARS. 

"  It  is  the  stars; 

The  stars  above  us  govern  our  conditions." 

— King  Lear. 

As  the  science  of  Astrology  is  in  this  age, 
being  rescued  from  obscurity  and  charlatanry 
by  which  it  has  been  debased,  and  is  becoming 
a  worthy  field  of  study  and  research  to  intel- 
ligent minds,  even  while  students  of  spiritual 
freedom  claim  that  "the  wise  man  rules  his 
stars,  and  only  the  fool  obeys  them,"  it 
seemed  that  a  portrayal  of  McCullough's 
horoscope  might  add  to  the  interest  of  this 
volume,  the  indications  of  what  kind  of  man 
a  person  born  under  his  planetary  aspect 
would  become,  with  a  possible  hint  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  early  decline.  But  for  this  plane- 
tary reading,  a  knowledge  of  the  hour  of  his 
birth  was  quite  necessary.  This  important 
item,  as  it  proved,  was  unknown  to  any  one 
on  earth,  not  even  by  his  surviving  sister, 
Mrs.  Wert,  to  whom  appeal  was  made. 

His  own  whispered  hint  "just  before  day- 
light," was  plainly  heard  by  the  writer,  but 
this  was  not  quite  explicit  enough.  Asking 


345 


346  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

him     therefore,    for    exact     information,    he 
replied: 

"  The  coming  of  another  baby  in  those  days 
was  not  a  very  important  matter.  Such  an 
insignificant  event  created  but  a  very  small 
ripple  on  the  surface  of  life,  but  if  you  place 
that  ripple  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  you 
will  get  it  nearly  right.  It  is  hard  to  under- 
stand those  early  conditions.  The  monotony 
of  life  was  so  intense.  People  seemed  numb, 
or  blunt  or  cold,  especially  regarding  the 
marriage  relation,  or  the  birth  of  children; 
and  so  little  was  known  of  the  outside  world." 

With  this  data  therefore,  the  hour,  the 
month  and  the  year  of  birth,  were  submitted 
to  Miss  Evangeline  S.  Adams,  the  well  known 
astrologer  and  palmist  of  Boston  and  New 
York,  whose  fine  reading  is  herewith  appended: 

"If  Mr.  McCullough  was  born  at  about 
four  in  the  morning,  the  Zodiacal  sign,  Libra, 
was  rising  on  the  horizon,  thus  bringing  him 
under  the  dominion  of  the  planet  Venus,  and 
giving  him  this  brilliant  celestial  body  for  his 
ruling  star. 

"  Physical  man  is  an  instantaneous  photo- 
graph of  the  Zodiacal  influences  and  planetary" 
vibrations  operating  at  the  moment  when,  as 
a  child,  he  first  faces  the  stars,  the  virgin-brain 


THE   VOICE   OF    THE   STARS  347 

of  the  infant  being  then  as  sensitive  to  impres- 
sions as  a  photographic  plate,  and  as  readily 
affected  by  the  various  chemic,  magnetic  and 
vibratory  conditions  operative  at  the  time, 
thus'  transmitting  to  the  plastic  brain  and 
indeterminate  temperament  of  the  new-born 
child,  the  diverse  influences  prevailing  at  the 
moment  when  he  first  draws  into  his  nostrils 
the  breath  of  life,  and  commences  an  inde- 
pendent existence.  The  subsequent  tenor  and 
events  of  life,  fate  or  material  destiny,  being 
Nature's  method  of  developing  the  picture. 

"The  sign  Libra  was  anciently  represented 
by  an  equipoised  balance,  and  in  the  figura- 
tive language  of  symbolism,  when  the  primi- 
tive people  thought  in  things,  and  regarded 
every  natural  object,  including  animals  and 
all  their  bodily  parts,  as  the  embodiment  of 
some  particular  force,  or  some  special  quality, 
or  thing  in  itself,  and  associating  these  ideas 
with  facts  in  Nature  for  purposes  of  remem- 
brance (ages  before  printer's  type  was  in- 
vented), came  to  regard  them  as  types  of 
certain  qualities  in  the  nature  of  man. 

"  Libra  thus  signified  the  equilibrium  of 
forces,  the  neutral  point  between  the  material 
and  the  spiritual,  or  the  physical  and  the 
mental.  This  static  condition  of  the  balance 
is  easily  affected,  and  just  as  it  takes  but  a 


348  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

trifle  to  tip  the  scales  one  way  or  the  other, 
so  it  has  been  found  by  observation  with 
persons  born  when  this  sign  is  rising  in  the 
heavens.  The  alternation  of  opposites  is 
quite  pronounced  in  their  finely  organized 
natures,  and  on  account  of  this  sensitiveness, 
it  takes  very  little  to  either  elate  or  depress 
them,  the  arc  of  the  pendulum  of  emotion 
swinging  just  as  far  in  one  direction  as  in  the 
other. 

"  He  was  doubtless  as  a  rule,  very  affable, 
sympathetic  and  kind,  but  if  the  scales  tipped 
but  a  trifle,  -very  little  feeling  was  shown, 
although  he  always  meant  to  be  just. 

"The  Libra  nature  conferred  upon  him  a 
happy  faculty  of  being  able  to  see  both  sides  of 
a  subject,  and  thus  enabled  him  to  arrive 
at  more  just  and  merciful  conclusions.  He 
naturally  took  delight  in  contrasting  one 
thing  with  another,  in  drawing  comparisons, 
and  trying  to  ascertain  the  various  points  of 
excellence  in  any  system.  This  habit  may. 
have  given  him  what  appeared  to  be,  at  times, 
a  certain  lack  of  decision,  and  often  caused 
him  to  wait  and  see  what  was  done,  before 
moving  himself,  but  in  reality,  it  came  from 
a  mental  habit  of  first  carefully  balancing  up 
the  various  factors  involved,  before  deciding 
upon  any  course  of  action.  These  features  also 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE  STARS  349 

made  him  more  broad  and  eclectic  in  his  views, 
and  very  adverse  to  all  narrowness  and  bigo- 
try; more  inclined  to  weigh  and  reason  matters 
out,  than  to  rashly  jump  at  and  adopt  ill- 
digested  conclusions. 

"Venus,  his  ruling  star,  is  the  mistress  of 
art  and  poetry,  and  so  the  beautiful,  in  both 
the  natural  and  artificial  world,  must  have 
appealed  to  him  very  strongly,  and  inspired 
a  love  of  music  and  of  arts,  given  him  excel- 
lent taste,  with  a  fine  sense  of  harmony  and 
proportion." 

[The  writer  recalls  here  that  he  once  said 
to  her,  "  0  how  I  loved  music  !  My  heart  was 
set  on  fire  by  its  melodies."] 

"At  this  time  the  Moon  held  the  most 
elevated  position  in  the  heavens,  Uranus  had 
just  risen,  the  Sun  was  about  to  rise,  and 
closely  following  were  Mercury  and  Venus. 
Mars  was  in  the  western  sky.  Jupiter  and 
Saturn  were  beneath  the  Earth. 

"  Saturn  holding  such  a  strong  position  in 
his  horoscope  indicates  that  he  must  have 
had  a  very  unfortunate  youth  and  a  hard 
struggle  during  the  early  part  of  his  life.  It 
makes  one  very  ambitious  and  gives  the 
patience  and  perseverance  so  necessary  to 
success. 

"  The  Moon  was  in  the  emotional  and  fiery 


350  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

sign,  Leo,  which  would  indicate  that  he  was 
generous  to  excess  and  very  much  inclined 
to  be  ruled  by  his  heart. 

"  The  planet  Mercury,  ruling  the  mentality, 
was  also  in  a  fiery  sign  and  in  friendly  aspect 
to  several  of  the  planets,  which  should  indi- 
cate that  he  had  a  very  active  brain,  and 
would  at  times  be  fired  almost  to  the  point 
of  inspiration. 

"It  was  in  the  sign  Sagittarius,  which  was 
symbolized  by  the  arrow,  and  which  indicates 
that  he  must  have  been  very  direct  in  speech, 
and  at  times  inclined  to  hurt  the  feelings  of 
others,  through  too  great  frankness  and 
directness. 

".Mercury  was  in  opposition  to  the  fiery 
planet  Mars,  which  still  further  indicates  that 
he  must  have  had  tremendous  imagination 
which,  combined  with  his  great  sensitiveness, 
must  have  caused  him  to  suffer  untold  agonies 
many  times  when  the  circumstances  did  not 
warrant  the  same. 

"  He  must  have  possessed  a  very  contra- 
dictory nature,  as  the  influences  operating  at 
the  time  of  his  birth  were  very  complex,  and 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  say  which  predomi- 
nated. Being  born  under  the  negative  and 
sensitive  sign  Libra,  gave  him  a  side  to  his 
nature  which  was  as  refined,  sympathetic  and 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE   STARS  351 

intuitive  as  that  of  a  woman;  and  having  the 
Sun,  ruling  the  individuality,  in  the  fixed, 
determined  and  martial  sign,  Scorpio,  gave 
him  another  side  which  was  capable  of  the 
greatest  strength. 

"The  planet  Jupiter,  which  seems  to  have 
much  to  do  with  one's  financial  and  worldly 
success,  was  very  friendly  to  the  sun,  but 
unfriendly  to  both  Saturn  and  Venus.  This 
indicates  that  his  earning  capacity  was  great, 
but  that  he  so  thoroughly  believed  that  money 
was  made  to  spend,  and  that  its  only  use  was 
its  being  a  means  to  an  end,  I  fear  he  was 
never  very  successful  in  accumulating  wealth, 
and  that  regardless  of  what  his  income  must 
have  been,  he  found  it  impossible  not  to  have 
the  outgo  equal  or  exceed  it,  'due  to  the  afflic- 
tion of  Saturn.  He  must  have  had  periods 
when  money  seemed  to  pour  in  almost  with- 
out an  effort  on  his  part,  and  then  times  when 
almost  any  effort  he  might  make  did  not  seem 
to  bring  good  financial  results. 

"Th'e  planet  Venus,  ruling  the  affections 
and  the  artistic  side  of  the  nature,  was  also 
in  the  fiery  and  magnetic  sign,  Sagittarius, 
which  indicates  that  he  was  very  intense  in 
his  feelings,  but  rather  unfortunate  in  his 
affections,  as  it  was  unfriendly  to  Saturn.  He 
must  have  had  more  disappointments  in 


352  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

friendships,  and  suffered  from  jealousy  or 
treachery,  more  than  the  average  man. 

"  Women,  either  older  than  himself,  or  who 
were  already  married,  he  must  have  had 
the  greatest  influence  over,  and  even  though 
he  did  nothing  to  try  and  influence  them,  he 
was  in  the  greatest  danger  of  having  them  fall 
desperately  in  love  with  him,  and  who  in  the 
end  only  brought  him  disappointment  or 
sorrow.  Men  were  really  much  more  fortu- 
nate to  him,  both  in  a  social  and  business  way, 
and  any  great  losses  or  sorrows  which  came  to 
him  from  time  to  time,  I  fear,  were  directly 
or  indirectly  due  to  the  influence  of  women. 
Even  his  mother  was  not  the  blessing  and 
benefit  to  him  that  most  mothers  are,  for  the 
reason  that  she  was  taken  out  of  his  life  when 
he  was  only  a  lad  of  twelve  years.  This  is 
indicated  astrologically,  by  the  opposition  of 
Saturn  to  his  Moon  in  1844. 

"  In  1848  and  1849,  the  two  planets  Saturn 
and  Uranus  were  in  unfriendly  and  friendly 
aspect  respectively  to  his  Venus,  and  which 
brought  to  the  front  the  emotional  side  of 
his  nature,  and  into  his  life  a  woman,  whom 
he  married  even  at  such  an  early  age,  and 
which  must  have  proved  a  hampering  influ- 
ence in  his  life. 

"  If  his  married  life  did  not  bring  him  great 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE   STARS  353 

disappointment  he  was  certainly  very  fortu- 
nate, considering  all  the  indications  in  his 
horoscope.  If  this  had  been  the  case,  it  need 
not  have  been  through  any  fault  of  the 
woman,  but  simply  the  following  out  of  his 
strange  but  interesting  destiny. 

"The  accidental  planet  Mars  was  in  that 
portion  of  the  heavens  which  indicates  the 
cause  of  death,  and  if  the  hour  taken  is  cor- 
rect, there  is  quite  a  strong  indication  that 
directly  or  indirectly  his  death  must  have 
been  due  to  accident. 

"  During  the  latter  part  of  1876  and  early 
part  of  1877,  the  two  evil  planets,  Saturn  and 
Uranus,  were  unfriendly  to  him,  and  if  about 
this  period  he  did  not  meet  with  an  accident 
which  affected  him,  even  more  than  he  realized 
at  the  time,  he  was  very  fortunate." 

[The  curtain-roller  accident  occurred  in 
March,  1877.] 

"  In  1884,  when  his  mental  collapse  oc- 
curred, his  horoscope  was  really  not  so  badly 
afflicted  as  during  the  previous  years  men- 
tioned, which  would  also  seem  to  point  to  the 
fact  that  it  might  be  the  natural  results  which 
would  follow  the  accident  alluded  to. 

"  His  horoscope  certainly  shows  tremen- 
dous force  of  character,  great  popularity,  and 
a  nature  full  of  love  and  sympathy,  but  des- 


354  JOHN    McCULLOUGH 

lined  to  have  a  very  sad  termination  to  the 
life,  due  to  the  positions  of  both  Mars  and 
Venus." 

Since  it  may  be  argued  that  as  Miss  Adams 
knew  the  salient  points  in  the  life  of  the  man 
whose  horoscope  she  was  delineating,  it  would 
be  easy,  without  deviating  from  her  perfect 
honesty,  to  note  indications  in  the  aspects  of 
the  planets,  which  ignorance  of  her  subject's 
career  would  not  have  discovered,  the  writer, 
therefore,  presented  McCullough's  dates  of 
birth  to  that  veteran  in  the  science  of  the 
stars,  Prof.  Oliver  Ames  Gould,  without  a 
hint,  or  any  suspicion  on  his  part,  of  what 
personality  he  was  asked  to  read.  The  nativ- 
ity given  copied  Miss  Adams'  closely  (as  it 
would  have  to,  if  Astrology  is  an  exact 
science),  but  two  or  three  items  in  Professor 
Gould's  forecast  are  especially  worthy  of 
mention. 

"In  1868,"  he  said,  "this  man  reached  a 
position  of  more  importance  than  he  had 
hitherto  known  in  his  life"  (which  was  when 
the  California  Theatre  was  built  for  his  occu- 
pancy). Later,  financial  retrogression  was 
correctly  indicated.  Next,  "his  stars  moved 
Eastward  and  he  had  to  follow  them,"  as  he 
did,  on  his  starring  trips.  Continuing  his  out- 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    STARS  355 

line,  year  by  year,  Professor  Gould  stated: 
"  Somewhere  in  1877,  that  odd,  strange  planet, 
Uranus,  the  author  of  sudden,  spiteful  things, 
was  likely  to  give  him  something  unexpected, 
like  a  thunder-clap  out  of  a  snow  storm,  result- 
ing unfavorably,  either  in  a  sudden,  sharp 
illness,  or  an  accident." 

But  the  most  interesting  item  in  this  read- 
ing was  that  "  in  the  summer  of  1885,  Saturn, 
the  arbiter,  was  in  the  House  of  Asylums, 
Hospitals,  or  places  of  incarceration,"  and  yet 
that  year — 1885 — while  a  bad  one  for  him, 
was  not  indicative  of  death  (as  Miss  Adams 
has  already  stated) ,  had  it  not  occurred  as  the 
result  of  -  some  injury  received  in  previous 
years.  But  McCullough's  incarceration  in  the 
asylum  from  June  to  October,  1885,  is  not 
alone  indicative  of  astrological  verities  and 
potent  influence,  but  also  proves  that  the 
hour  of  mortal  birth  given  by  a  disembodied 
spirit,  who  had  left  this  plane  nearly  twenty 
years  ago,  was  accurate',  which  is  a  strong 
argument  in  favor  of  the  reliability  of  other 
data,  from  the  same  source. 

But  all  these  indications  are  for  the  physical 
mari,  who  (as  every  atom  in  the  universe  is 
related  to  every  other  atom)  may  respond 
on  the  material  plane,  to  the  forceful  rriag- 


356  JOHN     McCULLOUGH 

netic  vibrations  of  those  powerful  planets  sur- 
rounding our  own.  But  they  are  the  metal 
for  his  steel,  the  obstacles  to  overcome  in 
working  out  his  grand,  free  destiny.  The 
spiritual  man,  the  soul  within,  is  the  greater 
Sun,  to  which  all  physical  aspects  must  do 
obeisance;  and  all  planetary  influences  must 
eventually  be  worn  about  the  brow  as  a  crown 
of  conquest. 

Man,  as  a  spirit,  transcends  the  ruling  of 
the  stars  (to  which  his  body  may  respond), 
because  in  spirit  he  is  one  with  the  Creator  of 
those  planets,  one  with  those  wise,  archangelic 
spirits  who  watch  over  and  rule  the  planets, 
and  thus  is  he  free,  the  sovereign  occupant 
of  the  throne  of  his  own.  enfranchised  man- 
hood, all  limitations  beneath  his  feet,  his  life — 
the  life  of  the  spirit — not  one  of  slavery  to 
adverse  fate,  but  of  noble  service  as  a  factor 
in  the  administration  of  Divine  Law,  in  its 
righteous  and  beneficent  fulfilment — a  co- 
worker  with  the  Infinite. 


INDEX 


Academy  of  Music,  108,  126. 

Accident.  178,  179,  353. 

Ace  of  Clubs,  80. 

Adams,  Edwin,  49,  59,  108,  142,  217. 

Adams,  EVangeline  S.  346,  354,  355. 

Adaptability,  Law  of,  313. 

Advertiser,  Boston,  76,   79.  81,  83, 

86.  112,  118. 

Alger,  William  R.  44.  91. 
Allen,  Girard  B.  65. 
Alta,  San  Francisco.  45,  47,  49,  50, 

51. 

A.,  Mrs.  266. 
Anderson,  Mary,  56,  57.    109,   192, 

224. 

Anne,  Queen,  95,  109,  154. 
Apostate,  The,  31. 
Appeal,  Memphis,  128. 
Apprentice,  27. 

Arch  Street  Theatre,  31,  32,  33,  225. 
Arrival  in  America,  21,  23. 
Astrology,  345,  354. 
Avalanche,  Memphis.  130. 

Banquets,  136.  142,  144,  147. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  44,      142,      191, 

192,  219. 
Belle  Lamar,  92. 
Bird,  Dr.,  45. 
Birth,  17,  346. 
Elaine,  James  G.,  145,  146. 
•Blakes,  16,  132. 

Bloomingdale  Sanitarium,  182,  355. 
Bohemian  Club,  60. 
Booth    Edwin,  49,  142,  192,  219. 
Boothenian  Association,  32. 
Booth's  Theatre,  92,  101. 
Boston,  75,  83. 
Boston  Theatre,  90,  109. 
Brooklyn,  105.  339. 
Brooks,  Noah,  142,  147. 
Brown,  Mayor,  65,  67,  68. 
Bruce,  Sir  Henry  Harvey,  132,  133. 
Bruce,  Sir  Hugh,  20,  132. 
Brutus,  85,  86. 
Brutus,  Lucius,  104. 
Bull,  Mrs.  C.  H.  169. 
Burke,  29. 
Byron,  273. 

Cade,  Jack,  76. 

Czsar,  Julius,  30,  34,  57,  108,  109. 

California,  42,  46,  47,  59,  92,  105. 

California  Theatre,  44.  45,  55,  58,  (SO. 

Canning,  Matthew,  92. 

Carncross  Opera  Company,  203, 220. 


Carson.  John  B.  169,  197,  219. 
Carlsbad,  170. 
Celeste,  Madame,  53. 
Charities,  107,  108,  110,  202. 
Chestnut  Street  Opera  House,     170, 

201,  206,  225. 

Chickasaw  Guards,  128,  129,  131. 
Childhood,  15,  18,  19,  20. 
Christmas,  325. 
Cincinnati  Festival.  168. 
Clairvoyance.  299. 
Clapp,  Henry  A.  81,  86,  87,  113. 
Claude  Melnotte,  109. 
Coat  of  Arms,  16. 
Cockerill   John  A.  219. 
Communion,  249.  251,  252,  253,  259. 
Connell,  Horatio  P.  229. 
Conner,  William  M.    92,     142,     185, 

197,  219,  230,  237,  242. 
Coriolanus,  81,  82,  83,  267. 
Cruise,  Miss  Janet,  158,  160. 

Damon  and  Pythias,  38,  45,  49,  78, 

90. 

Davenport,  E.  L.  33,  34,  36,  37. 
Dead  Heart,  37. 
Death,  184. 
Delmonico's,  147. 
Descendants  28,  235. 
Dimitry.  John,  125. 
Dixie,  Henry  E.  222,  224. 
Drew  Autobiography,  35. 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  132,  186. 

Edgar,  50,  51,  89. 

Edwards,  Henry,  152,  210,  219,222. 

Elfin  Star,  54. 

Elks,  203,  206,  221,225,  229,    235. 

Ellsard,  Col.  C.  M.  138. 

Emerald  Isle,  9,  16,  236. 

Engel,  Dr.  Hugo,  180.  184. 

England,  132,  133. 

Falconbridge,  92. 

Fall  of  Tarquin,  104. 

Family  Record,  28. 

Fear  of  Death,  293. 

First  Cast,  33. 

Florence,  William  J.  36,    134,    142, 

185,  197,  219,  222. 
Forrest,  Edwin,  38,  39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 

44,  52,  62,  71,  73,  81,  83,  121,  126. 

190,  217,  306,  320.  321. 
Forsyth,  Kate,  109,  131,  168. 
Fredericks,  William  S.  32,  33. 
Funeral,  200. 


357 


358 


INDEX 


Garretson,  Mrs.  38 

Gas  Works,  27,  190. 

Genial  John   513. 

Gillig,  Henry  F.  223. 

Gladiator,  The  45,  75,  92,  105,  131, 

172,  173,  174,  175,  176. 
Globe,  Boston,  75,  78,  80,  84,  117, 

225. 

Globe  Democrat  (St.  Louis),  136. 
Golden  Gate,  39,  52. 
Gould,  Oliver  Ames,  354,  355. 
Grant,  President,  73. 

Hallucination,  255. 

Hamlet,  69,  70,  78,  92,  283. 

Hassler,  Simon,  206,  235. 

Hardy.  Albert  E.  225. 

Haworth,  Joseph,  174,  222. 

Henry,  King  VIII.  87. 

Herald,  Boston,  113,  188. 

Herald,  N.  Y.  95,  168. 

Hill,  Barton,  45,  49,  50. 

Hoarseness.  77,  257. 

Home,  314. 

Howard  Atheneum,  36,  37. 

Hubbell,  Walter,  179.  199.  222.  304. 

308. 
Hunter,  Rev.  Robert,  203,  206. 

Industry,  27,  31,  34,  35,  37,  61,  190, 

194. 
Ingomar,  57  •  109. 

Jarr^tt  and  Palmer,  101,  103. 
Jefferson,  Joseph,  219. 
Johnson,  William  F.  27,  35,  37,  183, 
185,  193,  219,  224,  235. 

Katherine.  Queen,  88. 

Keene,  Thomas  W.  173,  224,  267. 

King  John,  92. 

King  Lear,  58,  89,  96. 

Kingsbury,  Alice,  54. 

Lachme,  John,  230. 

Lancaster,  A.  E.  334. 

Laurel  Wreath,  101. 

Leland,  Charles  E.  181,  187. 

Lewis,  W.  A.  226. 

Life,  321,  323,  333. 

Lincoln,  President,  15,  74. 

London  Assurance,  49. 

Lorrimere,  Frank,  156,      160,      165, 

166 

Lotus  Club,  143. 

Love,  249,  273,  330,  331,  332,  343. 
Lyster,  Fred  E.  198. 

Mackaye,  Steele,  237. 
Mackay,  John  W.  192,  224,  232. 
Macready,  115. 
Magnetism,  105. 
Maguire's  Theatre,  42.  44. 
Macintosh,  Dr.  J.  S.  206,  208. 
Manchester,  Duke  of,  133. 
Marriage,  27. 


Martin,  Mayor,  116. 
McCullagh,  J.  B.I 39. 
McGlennan,  Harry,  188. 
McVickar's  Theatre,  171. 
Mediumship,  275,  276,  277,  278,  279. 

297,  299,  310,  311. 
Memory,  31,  36,  37. 
Memphis,  107,  128. 
Miller,  Joaquin,  60. 
Milton,  271. 
Mirror,  New  York,    104.    153,    195,  \ 

198,  308.  334. 
Modjeska,  59  60,  192. 
Montague,  Harry,  56. 
Monument   230,  234,  340. 
Monument,  Cemetery,  220. 
Morton,  W.  H.  206. 
Mother,  16,  17,  20,  22,  330,  331. 
Mount  Moriah,  11,  28,  229,  246,  340. 

Negro  Philosophy,  326. 
Nevada,  Emma,  224. 
New  Orleans,  71,  125,  126. 
News,  New  York,  195. 
New  York,  21,  26,  92,  93,  104. 
Noble,  William  Clark,  230. 
Norris,  A.  J.  C.  221,  336,  337. 
Nutt,  William,  183,  201. 

Olympic  Theatre,  64. 
Onset,  Massachusetts,  267,  268. 
Orations,  210,  235,  238. 
Oriental  Scarf,  316 
Othello,  32,  49,  57,  72,  76,  100,  109, 
316. 

Parthenia,  109. 

Pauline,  109. 

Peabody,  Dr.  A.  P.  13. 

Personal  Bearing,  63,  81,    112,    193, 

196,  266. 
Phenomena,  302. 
Philadelphia,  26,  108,  170,  182,  191, 

340 

Pierre,  93. 
Pizarro,  84. 
Poe  Memorial,  109. 
Poems,  149,  198,  221,  225,  226,  243, 

334. 

Pope,  Charles  R.  221,  222. 
Porter,  George  A.  315,      323,      337, 

341 

Portland,  Maine,  246. 
Press,  Philadelphia,  183. 
Prince  of  Wales,  133. 
Princess  of  Wales,  133,  134. 
Psychical  Research  Society,  253,  255 

256. 
Psychometry,  294. 

Quincy,  Illinois,  169. 

Ralston,  W.  C.  44,  61 ,  65. 
Republican,  St.  Louis,  65,  68,  69. 
Repertoire,  106. 
Ricci,  Bertha,  206. 


INDEX 


359 


Richelieu,  42,  50,  73,  76,  79,  92.  173, 

177. 

Richard  III.  50,  93,  109,  173. 
Robert  Landry,  37. 
Robinson,  Governor,  116. 
Rolla,  83,  84. 

Salvini,  Tommaso,  224. 
Sanderson,  Harry,  220,  222. 
St.  George's  Hall,  203. 
Shakespeare,  29,  30,  34,  169. 
Sherman,  General,  145,  146. 
Sheridan,  General,  135. 
Sisters,  17,  21,  181. 
Sons,  27,  28,  203. 
Southern  Hotel,  136,  138. 
Speeches,  46,  102,  117, 134T139, 148. 
Spiritualism,  271,  285. 
Spirit  World,  287,    288,    289,    290, 

293,  294. 

Stetson,  John,  188. 
Stoddard,  Charles  W.  53,  54,  55. 
Strong,  Lewis  C.  174. 
Stranger,  The,  78. 
St.  Louis,  64,  65,  71,  127,  136. 
St.  Patrick,  Knights  of,  142. 
Sunrise,  328. 
Sun,  New  York,  308. 
Suspension  Bridge,  342. 

Testimonials,  101,  104,  116. 


Thompson,  W.  H.  65,  127,  128,  136, 

192,  219. 

Thought  Transference,  296. 
Tribune,  Chicago,  171,  172. 
Tribune,  New  York,  93,  120,  142, 

147,  193. 
Tributes  to  Generosity,     107,     108, 

110,  188,  189. 

Venice  Preserved,  93. 

Vincent,  Mrs.  J.  R.  188. 

Virginius;  90,  104,  111,  112,  113,114, 

115,  118,  120,  171,  178,  267,  306, 

344. 
Voyage,  20,  21. 

Wallace,  Mrs.,  229. 

Walnut  Street  Theatre,  38,  178,  225. 

Warde,  F.  B.  101,  102,  103,  109. 

Washington,  71.  144. 

Washington  Chronicle,  71,  72,  73. 

Wert,  Mrs.  Jane,  21,  203,  235,  345. 

White,  Lemuel,  35. 

Wiggin,  Rev.  F.  A.  263,    267,    268, 

286,  304,  305,  307,  339. 
Winter,  William.  120,  142,  143,  144, 

147,  149,  219,  242. 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,  87,  88. 
World.  New  York,  205,  245. 
Wyatt,  Miss  Carrie,  55,  56. 


OTHER    BO  OKS 

By  S.   C.   CLARK 


Spiritual 


A   LOOK   UPWARD 

A  strong,  clear  presentation  of  spiritual  truth,  with  suggestions  for  its 
practical  application.  215  pages,  cloth,  S1.25. 

TO   BEAR   WITNESS 

A  true  story  of  the  heroine's  cure  and  subsequent  experience  as  a  healer 
with  reasons  why  she  could  not  accept  Christian  science,  viz.:  its  lack 
of  any  proof  of  immortality,  or  recognition  of  Deity  in  nature.  180 
pages,  cloth,  $1.00. 


PILATE'S   QUERY 


A  novel,  holding  a  comparison  of  the  different  schools  of  modern  thought 
—  Theosophy,  Christian  Science  and  Spiritualism  —  their  weak  points 
and  the  truth  which  each  holds,  with  a  discussion  of  psychic  causes 
for  physical  conditions.  275  pages,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50  cents. 

KEY-NOTES  FOR  DAILY  HARMONIES 

A  perpetual  year-book,  with  an  uplifting  thought  for  every  day.  375 
pages,  leatherette,  50  cents;  cloth,  blue  and  gold,  75  cents. 

THE   MELODY   OF   LIFE 

A  presentation  of  spiritual  truth  through  musical  symbolism.  160 
pages,  cloth,  75  cents. 


If^orks  of  Travel 


A  ROUND  TRIP  FROM  THE  HUB  TO 
THE  GOLDEN  GATE 

A  breezy  account  of  scenes  in  California  and  en  route  thither.     193  pages, 
cloth,  $1.00. 

LORITA,  AN   ALASKAN   MAIDEN 

A  description  of  the  marvelous  voyage  to  Alaska,  and  pen  pictures  of 
that  distant  country  woven  into  an  interesting  story.  171  pages,  cloth, 
$1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 


